


Trope Mashup

by dharmaavocado



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Discworld - Freeform, F/F, Gen, M/M, Multiple Pairings, and many tropes, into the spiderverse, multiple characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 45,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23296810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharmaavocado/pseuds/dharmaavocado
Summary: Collected fills for the trope mashup ask meme.All pairings have been marked in the chapter titles.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/CT-7567 | Rex, Steela Gerrera/Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 106
Kudos: 226





	1. Jess/Rey, bookshop au/trapped on a desert island

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: any star wars pairing for bookshop au/trapped on a desert island. I chose Jess/Rey.

It was said that eons ago, before the time of even the universe’s living memory, Jakku was an ocean with waves that crested so high they brushed the upper atmosphere and drifted back down as snow. The water was home to creatures that were terrible in size and shape, strange things that lived so deep under the water that the light never touched them and were made of colors so brilliant they glowed in the darkness. 

But then Jakku, home to the beautiful and terrifying, changed, as all things must. The waves grew smaller, the oceans shrank, and the creatures found themselves thrust back into the sun. And then, one inevitable day, the last of the water evaporated, and all that was left was the vast seabed and the ridged spines and jagged, broken ribs that crested the sands. 

Whatever had turned Jakku into a land of the dead and the sand extended up past the atmosphere and into the void of space. Get too close and ships fell silent, engines whining to a stop, electronics sparking and failing, and then the ship would fall down to the sand where it would be buried and forgotten. 

Every pilot knew about Jakku, the way it siphoned away power and dragged down entire fleets if one got to close. It was a dead planet, and no pilot wanted to be grounded. 

But sometimes the only options left were bad ones, and so, pursued by half a dozen TIE fighters, Jess skimmed along Jakku’s atmosphere as one by one the TIE fighters fell away, spiraling down and down and down until she lost sight of them. 

And then it was her turn, and Blue dropped, and Jess did everything she could, but the only choice was to crash or eject, and so she did, and as Blue fell away, she promised that she would find her again and together they would make it off this planet. 

She landed hard, head rattled but intact, and she unstrapped herself and started walking. Jakku was vast but not empty, and eventually she came upon a settlement. The villagers gave her water and food, survivors as she was a survivor. 

When she asked about repairing Blue, of making it off Jakku, they shook their heads and pointed her towards the wastes and the curved juts of bones rising up towards the cloudless expanse of sky. 

The sun was setting when Jess made it to the bones, a canteen on her hip and a data crystal tucked against the skin of her heart. It was the ribs and jaw of some great creature that died long ago, and folded in the lee of the remains was a home. 

When there was no answer to her rap of knuckles, she stepped inside where it was cool and dark. There was a hammock strung up on the far wall, and a small plant sat next to a cloth doll and a single tin plate on a table with only one chair. 

Everywhere else, every spare shelf and bit of floor, was covered in books and data pads. Careful, revenant, Jess picked up the nearest. The spine was cracked, the pages brittle and threatening to crumble. It was written in a language Jess didn’t recognize, but someone had made notes in the margins, asking about certain words, mathematical equations, and one, so sweet that Jess couldn’t help but smile, just said _One day I will go there and see what the fuss is about._

Behind her, someone said, “Who are you?” 

Jess turned to look at a figure, faceless with a scarf covering chin and mouth and nose, and goggles pulled over the eyes. 

“I’m Jess Pava, she said. I’m with the Resistance. The villagers told me you’re crazy but could maybe help me get off this rock.” 

They pulled back off the goggles and tugged down the scarf, and Jess found herself looking a girl, younger than her, with dark eyes and a wary expression. 

“What is this place?” Jess asked. “Who are you?” 

The girl was named Rey and she had lived on Jakku for nearly her entire life. She went out to the wreckage of ships and found the books and holonovels and data pads and brought them back. The holonovels and data pads would eventually die, of course, but Rey found ways to prolong the life by using the salt in the sand and the bones of the creatures, and she transcribed what she could onto precious paper. 

Jess shared her water and Rey let her read her favorite books, and as the sun rose in the morning Jess showed her the data crystal that held a map to Luke Skywalker. 

“Skywalker,” said Rey, “I know that name.” And she pulled out an old book with a blue cover and said, “He came from a desert with two suns and saved the universe.” 

“He did,” said Jess. “We need him to do it again.” 

Later Rey will tell Jess about her parents and how, although she can no longer recall the shape of their faces or the cadence of the voices, she remembers them leaving her next to these bones and flying off in a ship with engines that burned blue and white and hot. 

“There’s a way to do it,” Rey said. “The answer is in these, and I’ll find it.” 

Jess looked at the books and then to the stubborn, determined jut of Rey’s chin, and said, “I believe you.” 

And Rey, who owned a single plate and a single chair, who lived among sand and bones and handled the books with infinite care, smiled at her and said, “Tomorrow we’ll bring your ship back here.” 

(Later: Blue was not meant to hold more than one, and she and Rey were pressed together from shoulder to ankle. They had brought Rey’s doll and her plant and her favorite books, all cradled on their laps and around their feet, and as Rey looked out at the pinprick of stars, Jess thought that of course they made it because this was always where they were meant to end up.) 

(Even later: “I didn’t think there was this much green in the whole galaxy,” Rey said when Blue limped her way to Takodana. 

Her face was bright with wonder, and Jess’ fingers shook as she cupped Rey’s jaw and kissed her, their lungs filled with the smell of green things.) 


	2. Ahsoka/Steela, dystopian au/mutual pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Ahsoka with a girl and dysopian au/mutual pining. I went with Ahsoka/Steela.

When Ahsoka first arrived planet side, she was met by Steela and her brother, their braids tucked under scarves, blasters in hand, knives strapped to their thighs, all alone out in the jungle. 

“I thought there were more of you,” Ahsoka said when they made it back to camp. These were no trained defectors from the military, no hardened resistance fighters. They were young and hungry and so angry Ahsoka could nearly feel the heat of it. 

“We thought there would be more of you,” said Steela, mild compared to Saw’s glare. “Now are you here to train us or just insult us?” 

“I can do both,” Ahsoka said, and Steela had smiled, and Ahsoka’s stomach swooped like the time in zero-g training when Rex deactivated her magnetic boots. 

“I like you,” said Steela. “Let’s get to work.” 

The brothers had warned her in their gruff, weary way of the grief of watching fighters she trained die, how the uncertainty was worse when others were captured and taken away in vehicles with no windows. They warned her of anger and despair and the knowledge that what they were doing was not enough, might never be enough, and the fear that things would only grow worse and never improve. 

But they hadn’t thought to warn her of the terrible ache as she sat next to Steela after the service for her brother. They had no body to bury, nothing left behind but old clothing and Saw’s knife that Steela held between her hands. 

“Don’t,” Steela said. “I can’t handle any more talking.” 

Ahsoka slowly took the knife away and folded Steela’s hand in her own, and said, “Whatever you need, I’ll do my best to give you.” 

As Steela laid her head on Ahsoka’s shoulder, Ahsoka thought that perhaps there was no warning for this, and thought that Rex, who wore Cody’s vambrace, and Echo, who had a tattoo of the numeral five on his wrist, understood there were no words for this tenderness and agony wrapped tight around her throat and heart. But maybe Steela understood it too. 

After they had taken back the seat of the legislature and the army had lain down their weapons, Steela found her and held her tight, Ahsoka’s face pressed into the curve of Steela’s neck, and said, “I lost you for awhile.” 

“I’m here,” Ahsoka answered, her lips brushing Steela’s skin. “I’m right here.” 

Onderon was not free, not yet, but it was close, and the brothers needed her elsewhere. This was never permanent; Ahsoka was always meant to leave. 

Steela met her the first day on planet and so she was the one who saw Ahsoka off on the last day. 

“For you,” Steela said, and unwrapped the scarf from her head and drapped it around Ahsoka’s neck. And then she unbuckled Saw’s knife from her thigh and pressed it into Ahsoka’s hands. “To keep you safe.” 

“Thank you,” Ahsoka said. 

“Take care of yourself,” Steela said, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Ahsoka’s mouth. 

“You too,” Ahsoka said, and she was aware of the ship at her back, of the small window they had to make it off planet before being detected, but she had enough time to grip the back of Steela’s neck and press their foreheads together and say, fierce, “I’ll find you when this is over.” 

“You better,” said Steela, and then she drew back. “Your ride’s waiting.” 

Ahsoka climbed onboard and didn’t look back, and was unsurprised to find Rex in the pilot chair. 

“All right?” he asked. 

She strapped Saw’s knife to her thigh and said, “All right. Where are we going?” 

“Tatooine,” Rex answered. “There’s a kid leading a slave rebellion against the Hutts who could use some help.” 

“So let’s go help,” she said, and behind them Onderon hung, bright and beautiful, against the black void of space. 


	3. Rex/Obi-Wan, time travel/sleep intmiacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: any pairing that amuses and sleep intimacy/time travel. I of course went with Rex/Obi-Wan. Also this is like perfect id fic for me.

There wasn’t an excess of space on the queen’s ship, and Rex headed past where the queen and her handmaidens were bunked down, past where Jesse and Kix with the boy Anakin, past where Fives and Echo had taken up guard by Jinn, who seemed amused by their presence, and skirted where Hardcase was chittering with Artoo, until he reached the stern and the small cargo hold that promised a modicum of privacy. 

Kamino was the closest thing he and his brothers had to a home, and no matter where he had been deployed he always knew it was there, waiting. But now he felt the distance and the years yawning open before him, and for the first time since he found himself pinned down amidst live fire, Rex was unmoored. 

He needed a moment to think instead of just react. He needed to figure what was their next move, stranded as they were when the general was just a boy with wide angry eyes, and Kenobi was— 

Watching him from the corner of the hold, curious and so frighteningly young. 

“Fuck, sir,” Fives had said because he didn’t have an ounce of good sense in him, “they’re _babies.”_

“Sir,” Rex said, which just made Kenobi’s eyebrows raise. 

“I told you to call me Obi-Wan, Captain,” he said. There was no way Rex could do that. “A bit crowded up above, isn’t it?” 

“I was just looking for a spot to bunk down,” Rex said, because Kix had pointedly told him to sleep. 

“You’re welcome to join me.” Kenobi had found blankets and a spare pillows from somewhere and laid them out. “It’s quiet down here.” 

Rex hesitated, but up above everyone looked at him and his brothers with mistrust and confusion, and Rex was so damned tired of both. He set aside his bucket and started unbuckling his armor piece by piece, stacking it neatly off to the side. 

“ _Jaig_ _eyes_ ,” Kenobi said, picking up his helmet and turning it over. “That’s a high honor. Not many earn it.” 

Down to his blacks and his blasters within easy reach, Rex settled on the edge of the blanket. It was easy to forget how much Kenobi understood of Mandalorian culture, even the bits the clones had taken and reworked. 

Kenobi set aside the helmet and tapped at a panel, lowering the lights in the hold before settling onto his side, his padawan braid tucked over his shoulder. Tano had explained what the colored beads meant once, but Rex had been in the midst of reviewing plans for their latest deployment and hadn’t paid much attention. It was a shame because he wished he knew what Kenobi’s signified. 

“You’re not going to be able to sleep like that,” said Kenobi and held up the edge of the blanket. “It’s going to get cold. Come on, no use standing on ceremony. I’ve shared sleeping space with worse.” 

“So I’ve heard,” Rex said, unthinking. Cody had bunked with Kenobi on Salern and said Kenobi kneed him in the kidneys during the night. 

“And what have you heard?” Kenobi asked, sly. 

Rex stilled because this wasn’t the High General. This Kenobi had to yet learn the hard lessons of sorrow or the way it felt to drag a brother to safety only for him to die on you anyway. There was no war to claw Kenobi open and make a nest in his chest. 

This Kenobi was heartbreakingly young and so dangerous to Rex. 

“Nothing, sir,” Rex said, and at Kenobi’s raised eyebrow slid under the blanket. 

Kenobi didn’t look convinced, but he tucked the blanket around them both. The engine hummed under them, and if Rex closed his eyes he could be back on _The Negotiator_ where Cody was down the hall and there was a war going on and everything made sense. 

Kenobi shifted near and said, “You’re far from home.” 

Rex could just make out Kenobi’s eyes and the bow of his mouth. “I am.” 

“We’ll get you back,” Kenobi said, and his knuckles brushed Rex’s arm. 

Somewhere the war was grinding on and brothers were dying and Rex was beginning to suspect nothing they did matter. There was no end to it, and acting as if there was exhausting. 

“It might not be waiting for us,” he said. 

“Then we’ll find you a new one.” 

Kenobi looked soft and touchable in the way the general, who was a decade and a half away, never did, and so Rex let his fingers drift along the ridges of Kenobi’s unscarred knuckles, and said, “Thank you, Obi-Wan.” 

In the morning Rex would slip away from the warmth of Obi-Wan and the blanket, and he would strap his armor back on and holster his blasters, and go to find Jinn and the queen and plan the assault on Naboo, and would so all with his helmet on so as not to meet Kenobi’s gaze without protection. 

But that was later. Now there was him and Obi-Wan, curved towards each other in the dark, breathing recycled air, and though they were both far from their homes, they were not alone, not for this one fleeting moment. 


	4. Rex/Obi-Wan, circus au/awful first meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: circus au/awful first meeting.
> 
> I once again went with Rex/Obi-Wan. Although I was unaware that circus au was such a widespread trope.

For the record, it was the clowns’ fault. Anakin had warned Obi-Wan that the clown parade down the fairway was going to be their downfall one day and they would all end up complicit in some terrible crime, but Obi-Wan, unimpressed, had said that children liked clowns, which was a blatant lie. No one liked clowns. Clowns didn’t even like being clowns. But, hey, what did he know? He was just one of the idiots trying to bring in money to keep their small operation afloat. 

Anakin and Ahsoka were out drumming up interest for their show later, the rhythm of their patter familiar and comfortable when Ahsoka drew out three juggling balls and cocked an eyebrow in challenge. Never one to back down, Anakin nodded and soon he and Ahsoka were juggling the balls back and forth along with various objects tossed to them from the crowd they drew, including a cell phone, a wallet, keys, an umbrella, and two tampons that were in constant danger of being snatched away by a gust of wind. 

Obi-Wan appeared out of the crowd like an ill omen and pointedly cleared his throat. Okay, yes, _technically_ he and Ahsoka weren’t allowed to do this after the Incident, but people were smiling and dropping money into the bucket they set out and they were definitely selling tickets to the main show, and so Obi-Wan had no right to look so disapproving. 

In fact, it would have been just fine if not for the clowns and their awful act of tossing pies at each other. One poorly aimed pie sailed right into the arc of their act. Juggling required quick reflexes, perfect timing, and the ability to adapt on the fly, all of which he and Ahsoka excelled at, but Obi-Wan, only seeing the renegade pie heading towards an oblivious child, completely disregarded all of that to try to catch the pie before it hit its target. 

A lot happened in a very short period of time—cursing and fumbling and realizing one of the goddamned clowns had thrown over an actual to god banana peel right in Obi-Wan’s path—which ended with Obi-Wan taking the pie full to the face as his heel skidded along the peel, and he went crashing to the ground. 

Or he would have if one of the onlookers hadn’t possessed superhero reflexes and grabbed Obi-Wan securely around the waist with one arm with his other hand supporting him between his shoulder blades, the two of them suspended in a perfect dip that was only partially ruined by the whip cream dripping from Obi-Wan’s nose. 

“Uh,” said the man, who was broad shouldered with blonde hair and high cheekbones Anakin was definitely not envious of. “You all right?” 

“I'm perfectly fine, yes,” said Obi-Wan. “If you could please help me up?” 

The man flushed as Ahsoka, quick as always, said, “If you want to see more acts of amazement and wonder then please come to the Big Top show! Tickets can be purchased at the door or right here from yours truly!” 

Anakin passed back all the objects they were juggling, watching close as Obi-Wan wiped his face clean and said, “Tickets for the show for you and your family are on us.” 

“I’d settle for your name,” the man said. 

Obi-Wan blinked and said, “Obi-Wan.” 

“Rex,” the man said, and offered his hand. 

“I think we’re a bit beyond that,” Obi-Wan, but shook it. “I need to clean up, but perhaps I can show you around?” 

“Yeah,” said Rex, “I’d like that.” 

“Wait,” Anakin said as the two of them walked off, “what just happened.” 

“I think Obi-Wan has a date,” said Ahsoka. “And with any luck he won’t even remember to be mad at us about the juggling.” 

“Oh, I’ll remember,” Obi-Wan called over his shoulder. 

“Hey,” Anakin yelled back, “it was the clowns! The _clowns_!” 


	5. Vimes/Sybil, space au/arranged marriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: for the glorious 25th of May Sam Vimes and space au/arranged marriage au.
> 
> My one and only Discworld prompt, and I love it.

Ankh-Morpork was a small moon compared to the aging Uberwald Empire or the twin moons of Klatch and Ecks Ecks Ecks Ecks, but what it lacked in size it more than made up for in attitude. While it was, most planets of the Disc system agreed, tiresome, its Patrician was not a man to cross. 

Vetinari transformed Ankh-Morpork into a thriving moon with a mostly functional economic system and something even resembling culture, but the Disc was built on old alliances and understandings and Ankh-Morpork had little of those. It did, however, have the Ramkin family, which in turn had ties to nearly every old family of every planet. The Ramkin fortune may have faded over the years, but Vetinari was still friends with the remaining Ramkin daughter, Lady Sybil, who was the sole heir of the house and currently unmarried. 

And then there was, of course, Vimes. Ankh-Morpork loved Vimes in the way only it could: it hated him right up until it needed him and then it dredged up some goodwill and claimed it had been there the entire time. Vimes was descended from a family who believed people were bastards and underneath that was another bastard layer followed by more bastard but _under that_ folk were decent when they could be bothered. They planted themselves on the side of what was right, no matter the cost, and slew kings. 

Vimes was of the people, and given how much the heads of the guild despised him, Vetinari held high hopes for Vimes’ political future and how to secure it. 

The problem was that one couldn’t order Vimes to do anything, contrary as he was, and so Vetinari merely suggested the idea of marriage and the fact that there are several eligible and appropriate women who would make a strong match. Why, Lady Ramkin was holding a dinner and Vimes could meet some of them and Vetinari insisted on Vimes’ presence. 

So of course Vimes arrived late, glowering and getting into arguments because the man wass predictable in the best ways, and before the first course was even served, Vimes has retreated outside to moodily smoke and curse the day that saw him promoted to the head of the Watch. 

Off to the side was the nicest shed Vimes has ever seen. In fact, it’s much nicer than the room he rented, and there was smoke curling from underneath the door. Vimes being Vimes, he went to investigate, and he barely pushed the door in when he hears, “Duck!” 

He ducked as a spout of flame went over his head. 

When he cautiously came up it was to a woman wearing heavy leathers sitting against the far wall with a small dragon cradled in her lap. 

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, “but Errol has been feeling poorly, and I couldn’t leave him alone. Oh, how rude of me,” she added when Vimes stared in bemusement. “I’m Sybil Ramkin.” 

“Sam Vimes,” Vimes offered. “Isn’t this your party?” 

She was not a small woman, but she had a kind face and a sweet smile, and she stroked gentle fingers along Errol’s spinal ridge. “It is,” she said, “but I’m afraid I’ve lost all tolerance for men talking down to me, and I do worry about my dragons.” 

Vimes eyes had adjusted to the low light, and in pens along each wall were dragons, each the dark of space with star stuff shining along their scales. 

“Do you mind fetching me that coal?” Sybil asked. “I’ve made it special for Errol.” 

Vimes did, marveling at its weight. Sybil plucked a small piece and, cooing gently, coaxed Errol to take it. 

“Will he be all right?” Vimes asked. 

“It was a bit touch and go, but he’s on the mend now. Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you from the party.” 

“No apology needed,” said Vimes, awkward. “This is better than listening to that lot. I don’t suppose you could use help with Errol?” 

“Oh,” said Sybil, smiling up at him, “that would be lovely. Thank you.” 

Vetinari, who noticed that Vimes had disappeared into the shed quite some time ago and had yet to emerge, smiled. 


	6. Rex/Obi-Wan, royal au/flirting under fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original promot: ObiRex and royal au/flirting under fire
> 
> Based on a tumblr post about the Jedi arranging a good marriage match for Obi-Wan. Also, I cannot write flirting.

Mandalore was lead by the Duchess Satine, who had dark skin and blonde hair, and who united the various clans through diplomacy and threats and sheer obstinacy. She wore the traditional armor of the Kryze clan, and she understood that while pacifism was noble, it could not stand against those with no morals. She saw too many of her people died by the Republic’s hands and by their own, and said, “No more. Mandalore must change, but it will not cut off its roots to do so.” 

She earned her station through blood and oath, and if she had power to weild it was only because it was her people who bestowed it upon her, and by them she would do right. 

The day after the treaties were signed, she changed out of her armor and went to see Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan off. With her hair down, she looked soft, which Obi-Wan knew was deceiving. 

“I would stay for you,” Obi-Wan said, because he would, in another life. 

“I know,” Satine answered, “but I’m afraid I must leave my marriage options open. And it is too early to tie Mandalore so closely to the Jedi.” She touched his cheek, and said, “I expect you to stay in touch and to visit one day. And if you ever need help finding a proper match, I’m sure I can find you options.” 

“I do just fine on my own,” Obi-Wan said, and then touched his forehead to hers as was traditional among Mandalorians. 

He boarded the ship and did not look back, but when they arrived back on Coruscant he sent a short note to Satine over secure channels, and a day later she replied back. That was how they continued over the years, irregular correspondence outside of official channels. 

And then Naboo happened, and Obi-Wan was left to raise Anakin, who was filled with equal measure of anger and grief, and the irregular correspondence became non-existent until one day Satine demanded his presence. 

The past few years had seen Mandalore withdrawn into self-imposed isolation. They retained their seat in the senate, but they no longer welcomed visitors nor did they send out ambassadors of their own. There were persistent rumors about a shift in the head clans, of new titles being awarded. But rumors were all they remained. 

“Find out what’s going on,” Mace said. “Take Anakin with you. He could use more work on his diplomacy.” 

Anakin was sixteen and gangly and had not yet learned when to speak his mind and when to keep his peace. It’d gotten them into quite a bit of trouble, and Obi-Wan was of the private belief that Anakin would never be a diplomat. 

“Do you think she’s changed her mind about the marriage?” Anakin asked, nearly bouncing in the co-pilot’s seat. He read all the accounts of Obi-Wan’s time on Mandalore and pestered him for details to the point where Obi-Wan used it as bribery for Anakin to complete his course work. 

Anakin was also convinced that he and Satine were star crossed lovers. Obi-Wan held great sympathy for Padme and the endless messages Anakin sent her. 

When they arrive on Mandalore, they are met only by Satine, who forwent all marks of her station. 

“And here I thought Mandalorians were a welcoming people,” Obi-Wan said as he and Anakin disembarked. 

“Not for the Jedi,” she answered, and touched her forehead to his. “But for you, yes, if you would ever learn to control that mouth.” 

Anakin looked between them with undisguised glee. 

“Now,” Satine said as she led them into parliament house, “I need you to fix what the Jedi broke.” 

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” Obi-Wan said. 

Satine raised one dangerous eyebrow and showed him. 

There were identical men, clones, wearing Mandalorian armor, who nodded respectfully to Satine and called her sister. 

“Did you adopt them?” Obi-Wan asked, thinking of the rumored new titles. 

“Of course I did,” Satine answered. “How else was I to protect them?” 

Two years ago she received encrypted message from Jango Fett of Mandalorians being trained for war, and when Satine arrived on Kamino it was to find the brothers, as they were called, being prepared as a slave army. They were her people, and so Satine did what she had always done: she took care of what was hers. She took them into her clan and bestowed upon them titles, and now no one could claim them, for they belonged to Mandalore. 

“I don’t see what this has to do with us,” Obi-Wan said. 

“They were commissioned by a Jedi,” said Satine. 

Well, Obi-Wan thought with a flicker of anger, that changed things. 

He began investigating, and grew close to several of the brothers, particularly Cody and Rex, who Satine bestowed upon the title of duke. Obi-Wan called them both “Your Grace,” and while Cody took it in stride and always referred to Obi-Wan by his title, Rex, who proudly displayed his earned _jaig_ _eyes_ , always frowned. 

Anakin adored the brothers, and the feeling was mutual. For the first time in years Obi-Wan didn’t have to worry about Anakin fitting in or making friends, and when the investigation took him off planet, he left Anakin with them. Anakin protested, but not too hard. 

“You’re not going alone,” Satine said, obstinate jut to her chin. “I know the trouble you get into.” 

She sent Rex with him because she needed Cody there in case of—well, just in case. Satine could see the shape the future was taking, and when Mandalore was in need of a general, they would have the best there was. 

So Rex and Obi-Wan figured their best chance to unraveling it was Jango Fett, who disappeared after sending the message to Satine. They found him on the Outer Rim with his son, a perfect image of him. 

“Genosis,” Jango said. “You’ll find what you need on Genosis.” He touched his forehead to Rex’s and wished them good hunting. 

Rex sent a message back about what they learned, and then they arrived on Genosis. It did not go well. They were separated and Obi-Wan, as so often was the case, was sent to the arena an chained to a pillar, which was how Rex found him. 

“I had thought the Duchess was exaggerating the trouble you get into,” Rex said as he cut Obi-Wan free. 

“I can assure you, Your Grace,” Obi-Wan said, “that this is an outlier.” 

“The kid says differently,” Rex said, handing Obi-Wan his lightsaber. “And call me Rex.” 

“Well, Rex, do you have a plan for getting us out of here?” 

Which was when, of course, the creature charged them. Rex didn’t blink, firing twice and hitting it in the eye. It fell before him. Obi-Wan’s mouth went dry. 

“I thought plans are the Jedi’s area of expertise?” Rex said. He looked up and smiled. “Reinforcements have arrived.” 

Mandalorian ships swept low, and Obi-Wan found to his complete lack of surprise that Anakin was on board one, wearing Mandalorian armor with his lightsaber hanging off his hip like it was a blaster. 

“Honestly,” Obi-Wan said. “I thought I told you to stay on planet.” 

“How am I being yelled at?” Anakin said. “You were the one about to be gored to death.” 

“He’s not wrong,” said Rex, and Anakin looked smug right up until their ship was clipped by artillery. 

The battle lasted hours, and when it was over, Fives and Echo, who never left Anakin’s side, sat with him in bunk until he finally slept. And Rex, who wore his jaig eyes like a challenge, who issued orders in a clipped voice, who covered Obi-Wan’s back and didn’t flinch when coming face to face with a Sith Lord, sat with Obi-Wan in medical and said, “I don’t like Genosis.” 

Obi-Wan gave a tired laugh. “Neither do I, Your Grace.” 

Satine found them there, hair piled on top of her head and wearing her armor. Cody followed, and he raised a pointed eyebrow at Rex, who said, “Don’t start with me.” 

“Not that I’m unappreciative,” Obi-Wan said, “but you do realize you’ve declared war, don’t you?” 

“Well, it was either that or let you be killed,” Satine answered briskly. “Don’t make me regret my decision.” She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I think it’s time we revisit the alliance issue.” 

Rex shifted next to him, and Obi-Wan said, “Do you have any thoughts on this, Your Grace?” 

“You should probably start calling me Rex,” said Rex. 

That was answer enough, Obi-Wan supposed. Anakin was going to be unbearable. 


	7. Baze/Chirrut, dystopian au/not a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: dystopian au/not a date. No fandom or pairing was specified so I went with Baze/Chirrut.

Chirrut was waiting for him at the west gate, and slipped his hand around Baze’s elbow nearly before Baze had noticed he was there. 

“I was beginning to think I’d been stood up,” Chirrut said. 

Baze covered Chirrut’s hand with this own. “When have I ever stood you up?” 

Chirrut tipped his head to his side. “Well, there was that time when we were fifteen and you promised to take me to the shore only to cancel that very day.” 

“The city was under lockdown.” He guided them into the line for the checkpoint to the inner financial district. “You can hardly hold that against me.” 

“I think you’ll find I can hold a great deal many things against you,” Chirrut said, and Baze sighed. “Do you have our identification cards?” 

“Asha finished them last night. We’re low level coordinators working in data entry.” 

“Are we courting?” Chirrut asked in what he probably thought was a coy manner, but Baze had known him too long to be fooled. 

“If I say yes will you not pick a fight with every trooper we pass?” 

“They pick fights with me,” Chirrut answered, which wasn’t, Baze was forced to admit, untrue. 

They reached the front of the line, and Chirrut leaned heavily against him, blind gaze fixed above the guard’s head as Baze passed over their cards and waited. Asha did good work, but there was no guaranteed that this was the time they were found out, and their crimes would not see them sent down into the mines. 

“ _He_ does data entry?” the trooper said. 

“My interface is functional and I’m quick,” Chirrut answered, and tilted his head so the guard could see the nodes at his temples. 

“Your shift doesn’t start for another hour,” the guard said. 

“We thought we might go the market for a meal,” Baze said, hunching his shoulders, and on cue Chirrut beamed at him, delighted and fond. 

Despite his best intentions and plans, they always ended up playing the courting couple. 

“As long as you’re not late.” The guard returned their cards and waved them through. 

Baze guided them onto the walkway that would take them to the main square, and said, “Don’t.” 

“Why, Mr. Malbus,” Chirrut said, “if you had designs on my person you merely had to say so.” 

“My only designs are for you to stay out of trouble,” Baze said, and spotted an open table in the shade. He deposited Chirrut there and went and purchased them grilled vegetable and sweet chilled tea. 

They ate and drank, and Chirrut cocked his head to the side, and said, “There.” 

The assistant to the financial minister was making her way back towards the main building, carrying a tray of drinks in one hand and a box from a stall selling sweet meat pasties in the other. It took very little effort for Chirrut to collide with her, sending the box spilling to the ground, scattering the pasties along the dusty pavement. 

“I told you to wait for me!” Baze said as Chirrut babbled out apologies and patted at the woman’s arms and shoulders. “I'm very sorry, ma’am. Crowds can confuse him.” 

“I thought the way was clear,” Chirrut said, embarrassed. 

The angry line of the woman’s mouth relaxed at the sight of Chirrut’s eyes. “It’s all right,” she said. “Accidents happen.” 

She refused Baze’s offer of paying for the pasties and went to join the long line for the stall again. 

“Did you get it?” Baze asked, Chirrut’s hand back around his arm. 

“Do you doubt me?” Chirrut said, and held up the security card between two fingers. 

“We have twenty minutes before she notices it’s missing,” Baze said. 

“Plenty of time. And perhaps afterward you can take me out for a nice dinner.” 

“That depends,” Baze said as they stepped into the lobby, “on if we can get through this without you getting into a fight.” 

Chirrut smiled. “If a date with you is on the line then I will do my best.” 

And then, chin up so that the guard could see his eyes, Chirrut pressed the card to the scanner and said, “He’s with me.” 

Together, they stepped through the checkpoint and went to work. 


	8. Rex/Obi-Wan, criminal au/unexpected virgin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: criminal au/unexpected virgin
> 
> This turned into a Leverage au, which is a subset of the criminal au, so I'm counting it.

Rex kept watch while Obi-Wan patiently worked at the safe. Normally Ahsoka or Fives would be tasked with stealing the contents, but they were both waylaid by the wedding party, and he and Obi-Wan were the only ones available. 

Rex counted down in his head. Security would be making another round in the next five minutes. “Any luck?” he asked. 

“Patience,” Obi-Wan answered. “You can’t rush delicate work like this.” 

“I’m pretty sure you can, especially since we’re about to have company unless you—” 

“Got it,” Obi-Wan said, pulling out a small ledger he tucked into his breast pocket before closing the safe and settling the picture back into place. They were dealing with an amateur. “Now I believe the service is about to start, and I would hate to miss Waxer’s no doubt moving speech.” 

Considering Waxer’s vows at his own wedding had been eloquent and heartfelt, that was the only part of the con Rex wasn’t worried about. He was more concerned with Anakin getting on the dance floor. 

Movement at the end of the hall caught his attention, and Rex grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm and pulled him back into the room. 

“We got at least one security guard,” Rex said, frowning. He hated when they didn’t stick to a schedule. 

“Blast,” Obi-Wan muttered, glancing around the room. There was nowhere for two grown men to hide, at least nowhere that wouldn’t be more damning than being blatantly caught where they weren’t supposed to be. “I suppose there’s nothing for it, then.” 

“What?” Rex said as Obi-Wan drew him back into the room and towards the desk, hitching himself against the edge of it. “You can’t be serious.” 

Obi-Wan slid a hand to the back of Rex’s neck with a smile, and said, “It’s for the good of the job.” 

And then Obi-Wan kissed him, unsure and hesitant. Rex had meant to do this right, take Obi-Wan out for dinner and make him smile and laugh, not put on a show to escape being made, but he was only human, and Obi-Wan was stiff against him and that wouldn’t do at all. 

Rex kissed back as sweetly as he knew how, and Obi-Wan sighed into it. Rex slid a hand along Obi-Wan’s jaw and licked into his mouth, lush and deep. Obi-Wan shifted against him, and unthinkingly Rex slid a leg between Obi-Wan’s thighs and pressed in closer. 

Obi-Wan made a small, shocked noise against his mouth, and Rex drew back just enough to catch a glimpse of Obi-Wan’s dark eyes before Obi-Wan pulled him back in. The kiss had an edge to it, a desperation that surprised Rex. He curled a hand into Obi-Wan’s hair and tried to gentle it, letting one kiss slide slowly into another until Obi-Wan gasped against his mouth. 

The security guard pointedly cleared his throat and Rex drew back, his mouth tender and buzzing. Obi-Wan blinked stupidly at him before Rex saw him focus and shift back into the talented grifter he was, mussed hair and all. 

“You can’t be in here,” the guard said. 

Obi-Wan ran a bashful hand over his hair and said, “Sorry, we got carried away.” 

The guard rolled his eyes and impatiently gestured for them to move on, which they did. 

“That worked better than expected,” Obi-Wan said as they headed to where the wedding was about to start. 

“Yeah,” Rex said, absently thinking he should have taken the opportunity to get his mouth on Obi-Wan’s throat. “That was quick thinking.” 

“Let’s hope the rest of it goes as well as that,” Obi-Wan said, and then put on a mild smile and slipped into the crowd, leaving Rex to stare after him. 

* * *

The problem was that Rex couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not the kiss, it would take a better man than Rex not to keep replaying that in his head, but the noise Obi-Wan made, shocked and surprised, like he hadn’t expected that, like no one had ever— 

It was none of his business. They had a good thing going, his and Obi-Wan’s respective teams working together, and it wasn’t worth ruining just because he couldn’t get the sight out of Obi-Wan with mussed hair and flushed cheeks out of his mind. 

But then he would catch Obi-Wan giving him a speculative look across the table as they went over the latest job, and Rex thought that maybe he wasn’t the only who wanted to do it right. 

* * *

“Seriously?” Ahsoka asked from where she hung upside down next to him in the elevator shaft. “You want to do this now?” 

“You got somewhere else to be?” Rex asked. He was right side up like a normal person. 

“Fair point,” she said. “I’ve never seen him on a date that wasn’t connected to the job, but he likes his privacy. You don’t want to know how many different accounts I had to break in to even learn his middle name.” 

“He has a middle name?” Rex said. 

“And it is a good one.” 

Their earbuds crackled to life. “If you’re done violating Kenobi’s boundaries,” Cody said dryly, “the mark is heading your way. Get ready.” 

“Try Anakin,” Ahsoka said as the elevator began to rise towards them. “He knows everything about Obi-Wan, and also he’s easy to bribe.” 

* * *

Anakin was easy to bribe, and a case of orange soda and several sugary cereals earned Rex time in the van, which was not a gift given the smell. 

“He was never interested in any of that stuff,” Anakin said around a mouthful of cereal. Rex had watched with undisguised horror as Anakin just poured the orange soda into the bowel. It was amazing the kid didn’t have diabetes. “You know, dating and whatever.” 

“But he married Satine,” Rex pointed out. 

“Yeah, for a job.” Anakin stirred the cereal. “Their relationship is weird and unknowable, but I don’t think they were every together, not like in a normal people way.’’ He added, thoughtful, “I’m pretty sure Obi-Wan doesn’t know how to do normal.” 

There was something terribly sad about that. 

Anakin’s computer beeped, and he shoved the bowl into Rex’s hands. “I got you now, motherfucker.” He cracked his knuckles. “Let’s do this.” 

Knowing better than to interrupt, Rex let himself out, rearranging his view of Obi-Wan in light of this new information. 

* * *

A rash of jobs and close shaves meant that everything else was put on the backburner as they dealt with Krell. But afterwards, when they were all exhausted and sore but pleased with their victory, Obi-Wan drew him aside and said, “Would you like to get dinner?” 

It was well into the early morning where only the young and drunk were still awake and the only places still open offered greasy food and terrible coffee, but Rex said, “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

They found a place that served pancakes and burnt coffee, and their bitter waitress was uninterested in making small talk. 

“You should know,” Obi-Wan said, making a face at the sad teabag floating in lukewarm water the waitress had indifferently dropped in front of him, “that I don’t have much experience with this.” 

“With what?” Rex asked because he didn’t want any misunderstandings. 

“Dating,” Obi-Wan said, “as you well know.” 

He winced. “They didn’t keep their mouths shut, huh?” 

“It’s cute that you thought they would,” Obi-Wan agreed. 

“I should have bribed them more.” 

“You definitely should have.” Obi-Wan paused as their waitress brought over their pancakes and a bottle of fake maple syrup before retreated back to the counter and the thick book she was reading. He waited until Rex took a bite of his pancake before saying, “But I was specifically referring to sex.” 

Rex had grown up Cody, who was an absolute shit, and Fives, who was the worst, and so he didn’t choke or cough, just merely finished swallowing. He did take a fortifying sip what could be classified as coffee if one was in a generous mood, and said, “I figured that might be the case.” 

If Obi-Wan was disappointed with his lack of reaction, he hid it well. “It was nothing I was interested in.” 

Rex poured more syrup over the pancakes in hopes to hide the taste. “But you’re interested in it now?” _With me_ sat heavy and unsaid on his tongue. 

“Yes.” Obi-Wan cut his pancakes into small, uniform pieces because of course he did. “I like you.” 

“I like you too,” Rex said, and ignored the flush creeping up the back of his neck. 

Obi-Wan smiled. “And I’ve been instructed by Anakin, Ahsoka, and Fives that I should, and I quote, ‘tap you like a maple tree.’” 

“Christ,” Rex groaned, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “We should have let them be arrested.” 

“That is tempting.” Under the table, Obi-Wan nudged the toe of his shoe against Rex’s ankle. “But I can’t say I disagree with their advice.” 

Rex’s mouth went dry. “We should go.” 

“Finish your pancakes,” Obi-Wan said, “and then we will.” 

The pancakes and coffee were still terrible, but outside the diner Obi-Wan caught him around the waist and kissed him as the sun came up. 


	9. Ahsoka/Steela, mutual pining/summer camp au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: ahsoka/steela mutual pining/summer camp au

Ahsoka was five minutes into an immensely satisfying sulk at the end of the dock when Anakin, in a barely controlled collapse that contained about five more elbows and knees than he actually possessed, sat next to her. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Snips,” he said. 

“You just saw me at breakfast.” She dipped her feet into the water. It was shaping up to be another bright, hot day, which just made her mood even worse. What she wouldn’t give for a good thunderstorm. 

“ _Everywhere_ ,” he repeated, propping his tanned arms on his knees. He was one of the few white boys that never seemed to burn, no matter how much sun he got and how little sunscreen he used. “Have you seen Obi-Wan?” 

“Pretty sure he and Rex are making out behind the boat shed.” 

Anakin made a face. “Gross.” 

“Yeah,” she agreed because Rex was practically her brother and the last thing she needed was to see him sucking face with Obi-Wan. “But at least Obi-Wan’s loosened up a bit.” 

Obi-Wan had been way more lenient this summer ever since he and Rex got together, and that meant she and Anakin got away with a lot more. 

“I guess.” He nudged her shoulder. “What’s with the face? You’ve been, like, tragic looking all week.” 

She dragged her feet through the water, and said, “Camp is over in another week, and it’ll be another year before we’ll see everyone again, and that’s if everyone comes back.” 

“And by everyone you mean Steela. What? Don’t look at me like that. You’ve been gone on her since like day one. I keep telling you to tap that.” She punched his arm. “ _Respectfully_. Respectfully tap that.” 

She fell backwards. “It’s not even that. I want to take her out somewhere nice and, like, buy her flowers and shit. That’s what girls like, right? Flowers?” 

“Why are you asking me? I’m not the lesbian here.” He leaned over her, his giant head blocking the sun, and added, gleeful, “Do you like her, Snips? Do you have actual to god _feelings?_ Romantic feelings?” 

“She’s just so pretty,” Ahsoka said, covering her face. “And she always smells good. We took that hike yesterday and she still smelled amazing at the end of it. _How?”_

__

“Yeah, no, she’s probably a witch.” Anakin’s knee dug into her side. “But I guess that’s your type.” 

She groaned and lowered her hands, blinking up at the sky. “What if I never see her again after we leave?” 

“Pfft,” Anakin said. “You guys like Snapchat each other every two minutes, and you have like Skype and shit. Besides, have you seen the way she looks at you?” 

“She looks at me?” Ahsoka asked, not even caring how pathetically hopeful she sounded. 

“All the time.” Anakin pushed his ridiculous hair back from his face. “And, like, way worse than how Obi-Wan looks at Rex. Why do you think I keep telling you to hit that?” 

“Because you’re a disgusting asshole with no social skills.” She pushed herself up on her elbows. “Do you think she likes me?” 

“Oh my god,” Anakin said, standing abruptly. “I cannot have this conversation with you. It was bad enough I had to have it Obi-Wan.” 

She grabbed his broad shorts. “I’ve had to listen to you moon over Padme for like three months. You are absolutely having this conversation with me.” 

Anakin heaved a sigh, like his life was the hardest, and said, “Yes, she likes you. She likes you so much it’s disgusting. I don’t even know why because you’re terrible.” 

“I'm awesome,” Ahsoka retorted, and tugged hard at Anakin’s shorts. 

“You’re the worst.” He slapped her hand. “And there she is. Steela!” 

Ahsoka scrambled to her feet and elbowed Anakin sharply in the side. “You could have warned me she was right there,” she hissed, frantically trying to smooth her braids into place and straighten her shirt. 

“Nah, this is more fun for me,” he said. “Hey, we were just talking about you.” 

“No, we aren’t,” Ahsoka said quickly as Steela glanced between them, amused. “And Anakin was leaving.” 

“Smooth,” Anakin said in the world’s loudest whisper. Ahsoka resisted the urge to shove him into the lake. “Steela, you seen Obi-Wan?” 

“Did you check behind the boat shed?” Steela said. “He and Rex go there to make out.” 

“God, I hate them,” he said with feeling, and stomped off. 

Ahsoka shifted nervously in place, and said, “Did you need something?” 

“Oh.” Steela fiddled with the scar that kept her locs back from her face. It was a sky blue one today, and looked lovely against her dark skin. She was so beautiful, Ahsoka thought, wistful. “So you know they’re doing a movie night for the counselors?” 

Ahsoka nodded. It was all Anakin could talk about for the last week. He insisted it was the night he was going to make a move on Padme. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to go,” Steela said. “With me.” 

“I thought you were going with Lux,” Ahsoka said and then resisted the urge to fling herself off the end of the dock. Anakin was right; she was the worst. 

“What? No, god no,” Steela said, laughing a little. “He’s a weird family friend. We’re not—just no.” She rocked back on her heels. “I may even have stolen the last popcorn packet for tonight if that makes a difference.” 

“It does,” Ahsoka said, and ducked her head. “I mean, I love popcorn. I’m in.” 

“Awesome. I have to go make sure the ten year olds don’t drown each other, but you want to meet up later at lunch?” 

“Yeah, that sounds, um, really great.” 

They smiled at each other, and just over Steela’s shoulder Ahsoka could make out Anakin pointing emphatically at Steela and mouthing _tap that_ like the asshole that he was. She was totally going to throw in the lake, but that could wait until later, after her date with a pretty girl who apparently liked her back. 


	10. Dogma/Tup, makeover/prison au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: makeovers/prison au
> 
> Fun fact: I have never written Dogma or Tup before.

In the end it was decided Dogma would be sent back to Kamino and into the long necks’ care. What else were they going to do with him? He killed a Jedi. 

Before they shipped him out, his hands bound and his ankles shackled, armor stripped from him, General Kenobi came to see him. 

“I’m sorry,” Kenobi said. 

Dogma once thought the Jedi were implacable and absolute, but Kenobi looked small and sorrow filled, and he was surprised to find Kenobi was a thing to be pitied. 

Dogma lifted his chin and thought of the way Rex’s hand shook when he pressed his blaster to Krell’s head, and said, “I’m not.” 

There was a secure facility filled with defective brothers. It was whispered about when they were cadets, of the things that lived there, of the things that were done there. If you fell behind, they said, that’s where you ended up, and the long necks would dig into all your soft parts. 

The truth, like most things in Dogma’s experience, was more banal. He was put in a cell, one of many and each filled with a brother, and given clean clothes to wear and bland food to eat and stale water to drink, and some days the long necks would come to speak with him and study him with their wide set eyes and their thin mouths. 

Then one day, three months in, two showed up with a stretcher and a medical droid. “Please,” said one and gestured to the stretcher. “You won’t be harmed.” 

He eyed the straps. He had broken off a bit of plastoid from his bed where it connected to the wall and had been sharpening into a point, just in case. 

They cut you up, they said as cadets, to find out why you work. 

“Are you going to kill me?” he asked. 

“No,” said the other, long neck bending so the Kaminoan could look him in the eye. “But you’re sick, and we want to get rid of the sickness.” 

The plastoid was tucked under his mattress, out of reach, and where would he go? He got on the stretcher, and the medical droid injected him. 

When he woke up later, it was to find all his hair had been shaved off and there was a bandage above his temple. It hid a neat scar, and he wondered what they took from him. 

Time passed, and he sharpened the plastoid into a crude blade that would cut if he put enough force behind it. He ate and drank and slept and did not give the long necks any of his words. When he dreamed, it was of Umbara when Krell had them march for hours with no rest, when he had his brothers around him and he was not alone. It was, for the most part, a good dream. 

And then one day he woke to alarms sounding. There was no sign of long necks or security droids, and Dogma slid the blade from under the mattress. 

There was movement outside his cell, the door popping open, and before Dogma could swing for the throat, a brother held out his hands and said, “No, it’s me! Dogma, it’s me.” 

Dogma lowered the blade, and said, “Tup?” 

Tup looked different. His hair that he took such pride in and been shorn away, and where his tattoo should have been was a long scar that stretched the length of his cheek to his chin. 

“Did they take yours out?” Tup asked. 

“Take what out?” 

Tup tilted his head to the side so that Dogma could see the small, neat scar above his temple. “Your chip,” Tup said. 

“Is that what they wanted?” He showed his own scar, and Tup breathed, out relieved. 

“That’s good,” Tup said. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

“It’s all gone bad, and Rex is gathering us up to try to fix it.” 

“So why are you here?” 

He and Tup shared the same face, and yet somehow Tup’s eyes were large and dark and sad in a way that Dogma was sure his had never been. 

Uncaring of the blade he still held, Tup, who was always braver than him, embraced him and held him close, and said, “You think I forgot about you? I'm here for you. I’m getting you out.” 

Dogma placed a careful hand between Tup’s shoulder blades and breathed out once, and said, “Then get me out.” 

Tup gently knocked their heads together and did just that. 


	11. Rex/Obi-Wan, coming out/love confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Rexobi and love confession/coming out.
> 
> This started out as a modern teeager au but then it turned into a Gravity Falls au, so enjoy, I guess?

The problem with heartfelt confessions in moments of fear and panic, Obi-Wan realized as his stomach knotted in on itself, was that the moment inevitably passed and then it was back to the real world where his sweater was soaked and heavy with water and there was a pimple on his chin and Rex wouldn’t look at him. 

“Hey,” Anakin said, pushing back his wet fringe, “can we maybe get out of here? Because this is creeping me out.” 

They had lured the shapeshifter back into the containment tube, and right before it was frozen again, it had morphed into a perfect image of Anakin, gnarled hands pressed against its face, which was frozen forever in a mask of pain and despair. 

“That is ominous,” Ahsoka agreed. “Can shapeshifters see the future?” 

“Ahsoka,” Cody said, nudging her. 

“What?” she said. “I’m just saying it could. We don’t know how shapeshifters work. I mean, did any of us guess a bunch of wood gnomes would want to make Anakin their wife?” 

“You’re just jealous they wanted me and not you,” Anakin said as they all made their way out of the lab and to the stairs that would take them back above ground. 

“Yeah, because what I really want is a bunch of small hairy dudes madly in love with me,” Ahsoka said, as Cody just sighed and gave up on playing peacemaker. 

Obi-Wan’s trainers were squelching unpleasantly and the sodden cuffs of his sweater kept sliding over his hands. When they flooded the tunnel to escape from the shapeshifter, his glasses had been swept away with the water, and now a headache was building behind his eyes. At least he packed his spare set. 

He stumbled over a step, and Rex said, “You okay?” 

“I’m fine.” He squinted balefully at the rest of the staircase, hoping through sheer will he could bring the world into focus. 

“Hey,” Anakin said, stopping right in front of Rex and forcing him to step around him to go join his siblings. “Um, you know, when I said you should maybe tell him I didn’t mean for you to blurt it out like—” 

“Yes, thank you,” Obi-Wan snapped. The soft blur of Anakin’s face drooped, and Obi-Wan sighed. “It’s okay. It just might be weird for a bit.” 

Between the gloom and his nearsightedness, it was hard to make out Anakin’s expression, but he was fairly certain Anakin rolled his eyes. “We just spent an afternoon in a crazy underground lab being chased by a monster that kept changing into us. The fact you just confessed you’re, like, madly in love with Rex is actually kind of normal compared to that.” 

“I didn’t say I was madly in love with him,” said Obi-Wan. 

“I mean, you sort of did. There was a lot of feelings talk.” 

Oh god, there was. No wonder Rex wouldn’t look at him. Obi-Wan had made an idiot of himself and ruined one of the few friendships he had because he couldn’t be a normal person and not fall in love with his friend. 

At the top of the winding staircase, Anakin patted his arm and said, “Don’t worry. I'm sure some ghosts will try to murder us tomorrow and Rex will forget all the extremely embarrassing things you said.” 

“If they do murder you I get to be an only child again,” Obi-Wan said. “I miss the peace and quiet.” 

“You’d miss me.” As they caught up to the other, Anakin said, “Oh, hey, what are we gonna tell Grunkle Yoda?” 

They all looked at each other, or in Obi-Wan’s case in their general direction, covered in bruises and scratches and still soaking wet. 

“We fell into a lake?” Ahsoka suggested. 

“You know,” Cody said, “I can’t think of anything better. We’ll go with lake.” 

It wasn’t convincing, but then again Yoda had accepted their explanation that it was a small, localized windstorm terrorizing a bunch of small animals for the gnome incident at face value, and this was infinitely more plausible. 

“Sure, why not?” Obi-Wan said, and rubbed at his eyes again. 

Rex made a small noise and pulled out Obi-Wan’s glasses from his pocket. “Sorry, forgot I had these. I think one of the lenses got scratched. Sorry.” He tried to clean them on the hem of his shirt before giving up. 

“You found them?” Obi-Wan asked. 

Rex shrugged. “I found them after I, um, fought the shapeshifter.” 

Rex had tackled in it, and Obi-Wan had just stood there, useless and blind, as they tumbled out of sight. 

“Thank you,” he said, and put them on. Rex snapped into sharp focus. Even scrapped and bruised, blood drying from the cut on his arm, he was still so beautiful. 

“I'm going to take the kids back to the car,” Cody said. “They’re getting tired.” 

Normally Ahsoka and Anakin would howl their protests that they weren’t kids—they were very nearly teenagers, _god_ —but this time they just followed Cody without argument, although Anakin paused long enough to flash a thumbs up at Obi-Wan, which Rex definitely had to have seen. Oh good, because Obi-Wan needed something else to be embarrassed over. 

He fiddled with the cuff of his sweater, and said, “I'm sorry for saying—” 

“Did you mean it?” Rex said at the same time. 

They blinked at each other. 

“What?” said Obi-Wan. “Did I mean what?” 

“What you said back there about, um, you know?” 

Rex had lain there, crumpled and unmoving, where the water had thrown him, and Obi-Wan had thought that Rex was dying or maybe even already dead, all because of him, and he hadn’t even—but it wasn’t Rex, of course. It had been the shapeshifter, and Obi-Wan had been too busy vomiting up useless words to notice. 

But Rex was here now, hands tucked behind his back and holding himself so stiffly it must be uncomfortable, and all Obi-Wan could do was swallow and nod dumbly. 

It was like someone had loosened all of Rex’s joints, every part of him almost seeming to sag in relief. “I thought maybe it was just because of the—but you like me,” Rex said softly, almost wondrously. 

“Wait,” said Obi-Wan, “you didn’t know?” 

“You’re kind of hard to read.” 

But he wasn’t, Obi-Wan wanted to protest. He felt so painfully obvious around Rex, like every agonizing feeling was scrawled messily over his face. The first time he met Rex, who had been restocking the shelves of Yoda’s gift shop, he had nearly tripped over his own feet and then spent the next torturous five minutes alternating between silent staring and babbling nonsense while Anakin looked like he was seriously worried Obi-Wan was having a stroke. 

“I didn’t even know if you liked guys,” Rex said. 

“But I told you,” Obi-Wan said, which just made Rex look even more confused. All right, fine, he perhaps just hinted strongly at that, but it wasn’t like he was hiding anything. “Well, I do,” he finally said. 

Rex ducked his head and smiled and said, “I like you, too.” 

“Oh, thank you,” Obi-Wan said stupidly and then had to resist the urge to go find an actual lake to throw himself into. 

But Rex just grinned, like he was delighted by Obi-Wan’s complete inability to be smooth. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “I mean, yes, I would like that.” 

“Okay,” said Rex, and didn’t move. 

They stared at each other for a long moment before Obi-Wan said, “Should we—” 

Rex leaned down and kissed him mid-sentence. Their teeth clacked together and Obi-Wan winced as his glasses got knocked askew. 

“Shit,” Rex said, jerking back. “Sorry, I'm not sure, um, what to do?” 

He looked horrified at the words leaving his mouth, and Obi-Wan had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. I like you _so much_ , he thought, overcome with a tenderness that left him breathless. 

“I think,” he said, feeling brave enough to step in close and place a hand on Rex’s shoulder, “we just do something like this.” 

He tilted his head to the side, just a bit, and Rex did the same, and their second kiss was tentative and sweet, and, oh, this was what the fuss was all about. He didn’t know. How could he have known it could be like this? 

Slowly, carefully, Rex’s rested his fingertips against the side of Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan inhaled sharply, drawing back just to in time to see the sweep of Rex’s eyelashes along his cheek, and then they were kissing again, over and over until his lips were tender and his breath was gone. 

“Hello,” he said when they drew apart. 

“Hi,” said Rex, flushed and smiling. “We should go meet with the others before they decide to leave us here.” 

“Yes, definitely,” Obi-Wan said, and leaned back in and kissed Rex again because there was no reason not to. 

In the distance a horn honked, and they jumped apart, panting. “Sorry,” Rex said. “Cody’s an asshole.” 

“We should go,” Obi-Wan said. “It’s going to get dark soon.” 

They walked back towards the road, their hands brushing together once, twice, before Rex shyly laced their fingers together. Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek again to keep to from grinning too hard. 

“Oh thank god,” Ahsoka said when they made it to the truck. “I could not take you moping anymore.” 

“I don’t mope,” Rex said, ears flushed bright red. 

Anakin grinned. “I told you to tell him. Didn’t I tell you?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said as Rex opened the cab door for him. “You told me.” 


	12. Rex/Obi-Wan, royal au/circus au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Rex/Obiwan and royal au/circus au.

The circus came to town on the same day ever year. They arrived at night and built their tents and their booths and the ferris wheel on the same bare patch of earth where nothing ever grew, despite several concentrated efforts to start a community garden. No one ever witnessed them arriving nor departing. They were simply there and then not there. 

Every year Rex would excuse himself of all obligations and buy his tickets. The price never changed: the contents of your right pocket or a treasured childhood memory. Most people handed over whatever they found in their pocket, but there was always one who thought it but a joke or an attempt to go viral, and said, “I’ll give you a memory.” 

The ticket seller, who wore the mask of a raven, would beckon the customer forward, lifting the mask to press their lips to the customer’s forehead. Rex had never seen the ticket seller’s face, no one had seen any of the family’s faces, but once he had glimpsed the line of a pale jaw. 

Kiss bestowed and payment collected, the ticket seller would replace the mask, and the person, blinking and confused as if they had been born anew, would be given their ticket and sent stumbling through the gate. 

Rex paid with what was in his pocket—a few dollars in coins, an old receipt, a bit of twine tied in a knot gifted last year—and entered the circus. He went alone, as his brothers would only go for the last night and his mother, well, his mother knew better than to go at all. He walked among the throughway, eyeing all the games and the prizes they offered: charms to bring luck, good or ill; seeing stones with a perfect circle drilled to just right of the center; flowers made of glass and bronze and silver but never iron; brightly colored bottled potions promising the taste of melancholy or the feel of salt upon the skin or even the taste of desire staining your lips after the first kiss; and little wooden statues carved in the likeness of whoever, or whatever, wronged you. 

Rex had no interest in those, but he paused at the rifle range. He was a good shot and he hit all but one target. 

“For you,” said the proprietor, who wore the mask of ram, horns curling over her ears. She plucked a small flower fashioned from polished tin. “So you will always find the way.” 

He pinned it to his collar, and continued on. 

When night fell, he went home for the royal family never appeared until the third and final night. 

The second day he rode the ferris wheel and took in the view, the ocean with the waves cresting higher than normal, the rolling green plains that had long since been replaced with neat houses sat in a row, and of course the main tent, which mirrored the color of the sky. 

When dusk approached, a woman wearing a hyena mask offered him bread and water, her ears pricked forward. 

“No,” Rex said, and tapped the tin flower. “Not this year.” 

“But soon,” the woman said, her chin tipped up to reveal the pale length of her neck. “Very soon.” 

“That’s not up to me,” he said, and the woman laid her ears back and continued on. 

On the third and final night, their mother kissed the skin above each of the brothers’ right eye, and said, “Remember where you belong.” 

And then they went and paid the price of admission, and entered the tent the color of the night sky. His brothers went to take their seats for the royal family’s performance, but Rex did not. This year he would not watch from the audience. 

“I guess it’s time,” said Cody, who was older than Rex by eleven minutes and never let him forget it. 

“It is,” said Rex. 

Cody had always known him best, and so he tapped the tin flower still pinned to Rex’s chest, and said, “Find your way.” 

Rex went to the back of the tent, where the performers waited for their cues. No one stopped him when they saw the flower, and so he took up position on stage left and watched as the royal family found their marks and the performance began. 

The royal family, all pale and their faces hidden, put on the same show his parents and his grandparents and his great-grandparents witnessed. It is the same performed every year going back more generations than could be counted. Some years the family spouted horns and some years they didn’t, but every year the performance ended in tragedy. 

It went like this: the father had a chosen son, the prince. They were happy, or a measure of it, until the father took in another son. The prince, who was the eldest son and wore the mask of a fox, was stung by the father’s dismal, but he nonetheless loved his brother. 

There was a duel in which the father fell, slain. The prince knelt over the father’s body and exchanged his fox mask for his father’s lion mask. The lights bed his hair red. The prince, with his ill fitting lion mask, cared for his brother, whose make was white and faceless. 

They were happy, or at least obtained a measure of happiness. 

Time passed. The younger son grew older if not wiser. His mask did not change. He married a woman who wore a swan’s mask. He took in a sister, who donned either antlers or ram horns or brightly braided tendrils. Her mask was brightly colored and matched no animal Rex had seen. She and the son performed great acrobatic feats. The prince watched in silence from behind his lion’s mask. 

The acrobatics grew erratic until the sister took herself out of the show, leaving only her mask in the younger son’s hands. The younger son, slow at firs and then faster and faster, grew a mask of a wolf grown gaunt with hunger. A hungry thing was dangerous, as Rex knew from experience. 

The younger son, howling from his hunger, slew his wife, although he bore the broken bones of her clubbed wings. And then, as he had for year after year after year, prepared to duel the prince who was his brother. 

“You came again,” the prince said. 

Rex turned to find him waiting, sword hanging from his belt and lion mask ill fitted over his face. 

“Yes,” Rex said. “I told you I would.” 

The prince’s skin was pale and his hair was red, and he went by many names, some of which were known and some of which were not, but Rex called him Obi-Wan. “Are you here to stop this?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“No,” said Rex, because if the performance was to be halted, it would not be by his hand. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes, behind the mask, were fixed on the flower. “Is it time?” 

“I don’t know,” Rex answered honestly. He unpinned the flower, which was fashioned from polished but useless tin. He had never needed it. “I think that’s up to us.” 

And Obi-Wan, the prince of the royal family, who for years beyond counting had worn the lion mask, let it drop. “Hello there,” he said. 

“Hello,” said Rex, and touched careful fingers to Obi-Wan’s jaw, and said, “I like the beard.” 

“I thought you might,” Obi-Wan said, and kissed him. 

Under the tent the younger son waited and waited and waited, but there was no duel and he was not slain, and when the lights came up it was to find the royal family, with all their masks and horns and charms and flowers, had gone out into the night. 

All that remained were Obi-Wan and Rex, hand in hand, following their way back home. 

* * *

The circus came to town on the same day it always had. Its tents and booths and the ferris wheel were built upon the same patch of grassy earth as it had always been. Everyone witnessed their arrival, and in three days everyone would witness their departure. 

Rex and Obi-Wan paid the price of admission: one flower fashioned from battered but polished tin. On the third night they took their seats in the tent to watch the royal family perform. This year they had grown no horns and wore no masks, and their performance was one of tragedy and of joy in the same way life was made of tragedy and joy. 

And this year, as it would be for next year and the next after that and the one after that and for all the years to come, they lived. 


	13. Rex/Obi-Wan, royal au/roommate au(/magic au)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Rex/Obi-wan and royal au and roommate au. Although a bit of a magic au also snuck in.

Rex returned from his morning run to find that half the kitchen had been replaced with a shoreline empty but for the steady wash of waves. Sand had been blown over the tile and the entire house smelled of salt, which meant Ahsoka couldn’t bring home a girl until it faded, and that meant she was going to be unbearable. 

The coffee machine, Rex was glad to notice, had remained untouched. 

He poured himself a cup, and said, “We’ve talked about this.” 

Obi-Wan leaned out of the bathroom, hair still wet, either from the shower or the ocean, Rex didn’t know. “Talked about what?” He glanced to the shoreline. “Oh, I forgot to close that again.” 

Rex leaned against the counter, waiting patiently as Obi-Wan, towel wrapped around his waist, reached to the edge of the threshold and quickly and neatly laced it closed. The towel slipped lower, and Rex busied himself with the coffee to avoid staring at the dip of Obi-Wan’s spine. 

“My apologies,” Obi-Wan said once he finished, hitching the towel higher at his waist. His speech grew more formal when he was embarrassed. “I thought I had—well, that hardly matters. I know it is a safety hazard.” 

“It’s fine,” Rex said, even though it was not. Fives nearly got lost when he wandered through the last open threshold Obi-Wan had forgotten to close. He was lucky Ahsoka had been there to pull him back out. “It’s an adjustment for you.” 

Obi-Wan carefully flexed his hands where the binding had been etched into his palms. “It’s an adjustment for us all,” he said. 

That was true enough. When he and Ahsoka had drunkenly posted the listing for a housemate they hadn’t expected an exiled peer to answer it the next morning, and especially one who came with, as Ahsoka had so succinctly put it, fucking weird bullshit. But as Obi-Wan did the washing up without complaint, Rex could easily let the weird shit slide. It wasn’t like he and Ahsoka were without their own quirks. 

Rex turned on the electric kettle. “How many days left on your sentence?” 

“Too many,” Obi-Wan said with a sad smile. The binding over his chest, the one Rex learned meant _brother_ , was still an angry red. “But less than yesterday.” 

“And tomorrow will be less than today,” Rex said. Obi-Wan’s smile lightened a shade even as a bead of water dripped down his neck. Rex watched its descent before forcing his gaze away. “Rent’s due in a week, your highness, and our landlord doesn’t take gold coins.” 

Obi-Wan was too well mannered to do anything as crass as roll his eyes, but he implied the eye roll with a dry, “That was just the once, and I must again remind you I am a duke, as you are well aware. The proper address is your grace.” 

“Well, if _your grace_ would be so kind as to get dressed,” Rex said, “the tea will be ready soon.” 

“Get dress— _oh.”_ Obi-Wan’s pale skin, dukely or not, did him no favors when he was embarrassed. He flushed a blotchy uneven red that Rex still managed to find weirdly attractive because he was an idiot who never learned. “The open threshold obviously took precedence that I forgot to—well. Yes. I’ll just go remedy the situation.” 

“You do that,” Rex said, amused. 

The towel dropped lower, and Rex found himself staring at Obi-Wan’s hip. 

Obi-Wan flushed a deeper red and fled. 

Rex dropped his head against the refrigerator even as the kettle whistled. The kitchen smelled of salt water and the sharp tang of magic, and Rex, god help him, loved it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now a full fic you can find over [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314086)


	14. Baze/Chirrut, magic accident/intimate artistry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Baze/Chirrut and magical accident and intimate artistry. And just a tad of a university au as well for good measure.

The problem with magic, as Baze saw it, was that it did what it wanted when it wanted and cared nothing for the consequences. 

The consequence was staring up at him with an expression that had, over the course of the three days, gone from amused to irritated to furious to resigned, which was somehow worse than all the others. 

“I'm sorry,” Baze said, notebook laid carefully on his desk so as not to jostle Chirrut. 

Chirrut sighed silently and settled further back on the bed that Baze had drawn the first day when they realized this was not going to be easily fixed. 

“Do you want more pillows?” Baze asked. Chirrut pointedly turned to the mound Baze had added earlier. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted quietly. 

Despite the various unravelers’ disbelief, Baze had no magic of his own and thus no idea how it happened. He and Chirrut had spent the majority of the afternoon in the library researching their final term paper, or Baze had been researching while Chirrut caused mischief, which in this case meant turning up the volume of his screenreader and loading it with romance novels. If the librarian had not taken such a liking to Baze that first semester they would have been thrown out at the first mention of throbbing. 

“Can you take this seriously?” Baze had asked. 

“I am taking this seriously,” Chirrut answered, his chair balanced on two legs. “The Countess must choose which marriage proposal to accept.” 

“I meant—” 

“I know what you meant. I emailed you the sources you were looking for this morning.” 

“Oh,” Baze said, checking his inbox. “I’ve been searching for these all week. Thank you.” 

Chirrut had grinned, so clearly pleased with himself that Baze had sketched Chirrut’s profile in the margins of his notes and wished with a truly pathetic amount of longing that Chirrut would stay just like this with him, just this once. 

And then there was the sharp tang of magic as Chirrut’s empty chair clattered over and Chirrut stared up at him from the paper, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. Drawings, after all, did not talk back. 

Long hours with the magic department followed, but not even the most accomplished unravelers on campus were able to undo whatever it was he’d done. This type of magic, they were finally told, worked itself out, and so they had been sent home to wait until it had been managed. 

Chirrut made himself comfortable against the cushions, moving in quick, uneven jerks as Baze didn’t have the steadiest hand. He did not have much interest in art, at least not until Chirrut came along. He should have taken a life drawing class, if only to make this bearable for Chirrut. 

“I think this is the longest you’ve ever gone without speaking,” he said, a poor attempt at a joke if Chirrut’s glare was anything to go by. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

Chirrut’s eyebrows rose as he sat forward, hands moving rapidly in a question Baze could not understand. 

“I’m not like you,” Baze continued. “You’ve always found it easy, magic and people. I’m not like that, and I just wanted—” he stopped out of habit. But it was too late now; Chirrut must have guessed from what happened. “I just wanted you to stay for a moment. I never wanted to trap you. Chirrut, I lo—” 

Some said magic smelled like a cold morning or the tang of citrus, but to Baze it always reminded him of hot metal. It flooded the room, and Baze found himself with a lapful of Chirrut, who was grinning at him. 

“Hello,” Chirrut said. “Did you mean it?” 

“Chirrut?” The chair groaned under their combined weight. He ran his hands over whatever bit of Chirrut he could reach, and later, when he the happiness of Chirrut’s return had faded, he would be embarrassed for his presumption. “You’re back! Are you all right? Are you hurt?” 

“I'm fine,” Chirrut said, impatient. “Did you mean it?” 

“Mean—oh.” He felt a terrible flush flooding his face, but Chirrut had been trapped for days, and he deserved the truth. “Yes, I meant it. I love—” 

“Excellent,” Chirrut said, and kissed him. 

The chair rocked back, and Baze was forced to grip Chirrut by the hips to steady them. Chirrut’s mouth was hot and demanding even as he wound his hands sweetly through Baze’s hair. 

“Took you long enough,” Chirrut said when they parted. “I’ve been waiting ages.” 

“Sorry,” Baze repeated, dazed. His lips felt tender and raw. 

“It’s all right.” Chirrut grinned wide enough that Baze could see his gums. “I know how you can make it up to me.” 

“How?” Chirrut raised his eyebrows, and Baze, against all reason, blushed harder. “ _Oh.”_

“Yes,” Chirrut said, his mouth just touching Baze’s. “Oh.” __

The chair, after several minutes of excitement, collapsed under their enthusiastic weight. 


	15. Peter B/Aaron Davis/MJ Watson, forgotten first meeting/poorly timed confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Peter B/Aaron Davis/MJ Watson, forgotten first meeting/poorly timed confessions.
> 
> My one Into the Spiderverse prompt for this tiny ship. We're definitely going to get this little rowboat out to sea.

“What are you doing after this?” Peter asked as he webbed the Vulture to a streetlight. The Vulture’s feet kicked feebly, probably because he was an elderly man in a sad costume, because no matter the universe Peter’s villains were the worst. 

“I'm going home, man,” Aaron said. The Vulture, despite being an aforementioned elderly man in a sad costume, had managed to trash his left glove, and Aaron had a long night ahead of him of fixing it or bribing Miles to sweet talk May into fixing it. Either way it was going to cost him. 

“Already?” Peter said. “But you just got here.” 

“Yeah, and I’d like to go home before my atoms get mad about it.” 

“But you know M—she misses you,” Peter said, just catching himself before saying his wife’s name in front of the Vulture, who probably lost his hearing years ago. 

“Why?” 

“What do you mean why?” Despite the blank mask, Peter still managed to look pretty damned hurt. Aaron blamed the eyes. They were weirdly emotive. “She likes you. _We_ like you.” 

“Uh, thanks?” While he might not have a spider sense, he did have a finely honed sense for when shit was about to get real awkward from years of watching Jefferson trying to talk to girls, and right now it was ringing so loudly he was surprised the Vulture didn’t pick up on it. 

“Don’t you like us?” Peter edged close. “I think you do. You’re here all the time.” 

“Because the kids are convinced you’re going to get scurvy and die,” Aaron said. “I’ve seen you eat, man. That is a legitimate concern.” 

“Or you like us. I definitely caught you checking us out.” 

“First of all,” Aaron said, wondering when the hell he lost control of the conversation, “I noticed her because she is a beautiful woman. And if I checked you out it would have been blonde you because he actually took care of himself.” 

Peter held up one finger. “First of all, that’s hurtful. I’m hurt. We both know you cannot handle this jelly.” 

“Oh my god.” 

Peter held up a second finger. “Second of all, you already checked me out.” 

“I have never checked you out,” Aaron protested. 

The mask did something complicated to convey that Peter was absolutely calling him a liar. “When I first showed up in your dimension, I bumped into you on the way to the church and you told me to watch it.” 

“No, I didn’t,” Aaron said automatically. He didn’t remember much from those days when he was hunting his own nephew. He didn’t like to think about it, how he was ready to kill a kid and would have if it hadn’t been Miles under that mask. Jefferson wasn’t right about him but he wasn’t wrong, either; Aaron was not a good person. 

Peter rocked forward on his toes, so close they were nearly touching. When had Aaron let him get so close? “You did,” Peter said. “And you did a double take and told me, and I am quoting verbatim, that if I cleaned myself up I wasn’t terrible for a white boy. And then you got a call and booked it.” 

“Oh my god,” Aaron repeated in a completely different tone because that was something he would do, given his type. “But you’re awful.” 

“Not so awful you don’t want this.” Peter did a little hip shimmy. Aaron hated him. “So now that we’ve established that you are into my wife, like any right thinking person would be, and into me, as not so right thinking people would be, you should come have dinner with us and maybe breakfast.” 

“What’s happening?” Aaron said. “Am I having a stroke? Is this what having a stroke feels like?” 

“It’s pretty obvious,” the Vulture said, causing both him and Peter to jump; Aaron had forgotten about the old man. “Spider-Man is inviting you into his polyamorous relationship.” 

“Ugh,” Peter said. “Don’t put it like that. We are going to date the hell out of him. But also he’s not wrong.” 

“You’re asking me out in front of the Vulture?” Aaron said, giving up. “This is really what you’re doing? You think this is the right time for it?” 

Peter shrugged. “I mean, this is how I get most of my dates.” 

“You are the worst,” Aaron said, spinning on his heel to stalk off. “Get your wife to do this. She’s the only one who has class.” 

“I have class,” Peter yelled after him. “I have class coming out of the orifice of your choice!” 

Aaron made a distressed sound and walked faster. 

“And that wasn’t a no!” Peter continued. 

“Get your wife on the phone and we’ll talk!” Against his better judgment he turned back to see Peter trying to high five the Vulture, who glared witheringly at him. Aaron could do so much better. 

“We’re going to wine and dine you!” Peter called. 

“You better,” Aaron said. “Or the kid is going to kill you.” 

“Oh,” Peter said, stilling. “Oh, _shit.”_

__

Yeah, Aaron thought helplessly, shit. 

* * *

“Do you see this?” Peter demanded, brandishing the paper and threatening Aaron’s coffee. MJ prudently moved it out of the way. “Do you see what Jameson is doing now?” 

“I told you to ignore it,” MJ said in a tone of voice that meant she had this argument with Peter many times before. 

Aaron, who had not, said, “What is he doing?” 

MJ gave him an annoyed look, which would have been more effective if she wasn’t nudging her foot up under his pant leg. 

“Look!” Peter said, shoving the paper into his face. The headline read _The Menace Spider-Man Confirmed Swinger. “_ Swinger? What is this, the ‘60s?” 

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Aaron said. 

Peter and MJ turned identical indignant stares on him. 

“Hey,” MJ said, poking him in the chest with a finger, “we are not swingers. Do swingers wine and dine you? Do they treat you to a hipster brunch? We are dating the fuck out of you. There’s a difference.” 

“What she said,” Peter said, knocking his foot against Aaron’s ankle in the world’s clumsiest attempt at footsie. 

“My mistake,” Aaron said dryly. “Consider me dated.” 

“That’s right.” MJ tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Now both of you finish your eggs so we can go back and have sex again.” 

Peter was already dropping money onto the table, and when they left, MJ linked her arm through his and Peter took his hand, and Aaron let them take him home. 


	16. Rex/Obi-Wan, dance au/intimate artistry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Rex/Obi-Wan and dance au/intimate artistry.
> 
> I went a bit more experimental here, and this is the result.

Tatooine had a bit of sand in the same way that Coruscant had some traffic problems, which was to say that it was pervasive and there was no escape from it. Tatooine was, after all, a desert world. What isolated bits of greenery could be found was hardly habitable, and sand was sand. 

Or at least that was what he once believed; he knew better now. 

Obi-Wan stood on the edge of a great roil of it. The hot wind blew the sand into small eddies, and trying to follow the shapes that formed only made his eyes ache and the Force throb through his joints. 

“Is this it?” he asked. 

The Tusken settled back on xir heels and tipped xir head to the side. This was, he surmised, it. 

“I don’t suppose you can tell me if it’s worth all this effort?” 

The Tusken shrugged. It was all the same to xir. There were many ways to get what he sought, some safer than others, but worth, well, that was up to him. 

“I suppose that’s fair.” He took off his robe, the same one he wore when he first fled and had faithfully patched through the years. He folded it neatly and set aside. If this worked then it would be made anew. “Shall we begin?” 

The Tusken was waiting at his pleasure. Xe had already been paid. Obi-Wan had given over his bantha herd, his old binocs, his moisture vaporators, even the battered old brass kettle he’d scavenged from a junk shop. All that was left was himself. The price had been steep, as it always was, but he had paid, as he had always done. 

“We’ll begin,” he said, and the Tusken nodded to xir brethren, who beat a simple, steady rhythm against the side of xyr scouter bike. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and then took the first step of the dance. It was simple, as dances went, just a slow shuffle of his feet. There were no patterns to follow or a path already made for him to follow, and so Obi-Wan laid one down to the beat, kicking up the sand as he went. 

One, two, three, four. 

It went on for a while, although time held no meaning in the desert. Very little did, as he had learned. What mattered as this: the heat bearing down on him, the sand under his feet, the beat, the dance. He breathed and exhaled and let it take him. 

The suns just began to dip low when he saw the pattern forming in the sand in his wake. 

Two, three, four. 

It was great big looping lines curving back on itself. Circles within circles. A cycle that he obediently followed, as he had always done. 

Two, three. 

The hot air cooled as night approached, and still he danced, following each circle as it intersected with another, each one smaller than the last. It was collapsing into itself, and he chased it, desperate. It was worth it, after all. He had decided so. 

One, two. 

His cramping muscles had long since given way to agony, and still he danced. The drumming came from very far away, but that was all right. He knew the rhythm and he had the painstakingly drawn circles. He reached the center. It was time. 

Four. 

He stumbled to a stop, blinking sand from his eyes. He drew in a great lungful of air, his lungs expanding and contracting easily. The ache was gone from his knees and he felt flush and young. He made it. 

Rex was crouched before him, the Rex who Obi-Wan once knew, with his sharp cheekbones and steady hands and the thoughtful gaze that always saw too much. Rex’s fingers were still rested on the final completed curve he’d drawn, and Obi-Wan nearly staggered under the weight of how much he’d missed him. 

Rex smiled, young and beautiful, and said, “Hello there.” 


	17. Cody/Rex, sick and injured/scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Cody/Rex and scars/sick and injured
> 
> Fun fact: this is the first time I've written this pairing.

Rex woke to a heavy weight pinning his legs. That was comforting because for awhile there he hadn’t been sure he still had any. He shifted, aware that it must hurt, but the pain was very far away, which meant they had him on the good stuff. 

With a great effort Rex turned his head to find Cody in the chair next to the bed; the weight across his legs, it turned out, were Cody’s feet, casually crossed at the ankles and resting on his calves. 

He made a sound, and without glancing up from the data pad, Cody said, “You finally decide to wake up, asshole?” 

Rex managed a painful swallow. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to be nice to invalids.” 

That earned him the Eyebrow. Cody was furious. “You don’t deserve it.” 

“What happened?” He thought about trying to sit up, but the pain crept closer, and so he decided against it. 

“Remember how I ordered you to retreat due to incoming artillery strikes that Torrent was in the direct path of? Well, you didn’t retreat and there was an artillery strike.” 

“I don’t—” he broke off coughing. 

Cody sighed and tossed his pad onto the bed. He leaned forward and fetched a cup from the side table. “Kix said you were allowed these.” These turned out to be ice chips, and Cody patiently fed him two before setting the cup aside. “You took a lot of shrapnel to the gut. They pieced you back together, but you’re not allowed anything solid or liquid until they know for sure the stitching held.” 

“That sounds bad,” he said. “Think it’ll get me a medal?” 

“Shut up,” Cody snapped. “You almost died three times. Once in the field and then again in surgery and then in the fucking bacta tank. It took another emergency surgery to stop all the internal bleeding. So just shut up.” 

If Rex had been on the slightly less good stuff he probably would have, but as he wasn’t he said, “Well, shit.” 

He half-expected another outburst, judging by Cody’s glare, but instead Cody just blew out a long breath, deflating. “Yeah, that’s about right. The fuck were you thinking ignoring my orders?” 

Rex marshaled his thoughts, which was difficult, but Cody was important, and so Rex did the best he could. “I was thinking the order was fucking stupid. All due respect, sir.” 

“Oh, why start respecting me now?” 

“Charlie Company was pinned down. They didn’t have the option of retreat. If we went ahead then a hole in the line would open and the clankers would break through. I figured we could buy time until air support or reinforcements came up.” 

“Do you want to know what was wrong your thinking?” 

“Was it the long range artillery trained on us?” Rex asked. 

“Oh, definitely that, but also your assumption I was unaware of the field conditions and that you think you know better than me.” 

“I do know better than you,” Rex said, reflexive. Cody’s expression didn’t change, but Rex knew him well. “I had command in the field. It was my call.” 

It had been a comparatively easy one to make. Stand their ground and buy the rest of the 7th sky more time to marshal their forces, or retreat and be overrun. Rex made the call and Torrent planted their feet and did what they do best even if it meant heavy artillery falling on his head. 

“You asshole,” Cody repeated, resigned. Exhausted, his hands hung loose between his knees and his head bowed low. “I can’t do this without you, Rex. You know that.” 

With a monumental effort, Rex reached out to touch the crown of Cody’s bent head. “You can.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to.” He reached up and caught Rex’s hand. 

“It’s not something I want either, asshole.” Rex squeezed his fingers. “But lucky for us both we don’t have to face that yet.” He weakly tugged on their joined hands until Cody obediently leaned in close enough to press their foreheads together. “We’re still here.” 

Cody shuddered out a long breath before saying, “We’re here.” 

Cody pulled back and resettled back in their chair, although he didn’t relinquish the hold on Rex’s hand. Rex didn’t mind. It was a nice reminder he still had all his limbs. In the aftermath of the strike, he remembered that had been a real concern before pain had stolen the thought away. 

“How many men did we lose?” he asked. 

“That’s not important right now.” 

“Cody. How many?” 

Cody looked away. “Casualties are within acceptable parameters.” 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Rex said. 

“Yeah,” Cody agreed. “I’ll send you the list later, when you’re less close to death.” 

That was a fair compromise, and Rex was tired enough to accept it. 

He was starting to drift again when a faint itch took hold above his right eye. When he reached up to scratch it, Cody swatted his hand away. 

“Leave it alone,” Cody said. “The new skin still has to take.” 

“What new skin?” 

“Didn’t I mention?” The eyebrow rose again, this time in amusement. “We’re a matched set now.” 

Careful, Rex reached up to trace the new scar curving around his eye. “Oh hell, we are.” A terrible thought occurred to him. “We’re not switching places to see if Skywalker will notice. The scar’s on the wrong side.” 

“I got a bottle of Corellian whiskey that says he won’t.” 

Rex tried for a glare, but it was muddled by exhaustion, and he gave up before it even fully formed. 

Cody softened. “Go back to sleep. We’ll discuss it next time you wake up.” 

“We won’t because it’s not happening.” 

“Sure,” Cody agreed, retrieving his pad. “Of course not.” 

“It’s really not,” Rex insisted. 

A passing medical droid paused long enough to check his read outs before pressing a pump that released more painkillers, and Rex was dragged down. 

“Uh-huh, whatever you say.” Cody nodded his thanks to the droid. 

“That’s right.” He blinked, trying to bring Cody back into focus. “Whatever I say.” 

Cody rolled his eyes. “Enjoy your good stuff. You’re being weaned off it tomorrow.” 

“Shit,” Rex slurred, but he was fading fast. The last thing he felt was Cody pressing a fond kiss to his knuckles, and then he was gone. 


	18. Ahoska & Obi-Wan, letter and text fic/magical accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Ahsoka and Obi-Wan and text or letter fic/magical accident.

Obi-Wan’s office hours were nearly done when he received the first text from Ahsoka, which simply read _okay so everything is fine._

**What did you do?** he replied. 

_i didn’t do anything and the fact u automatically assume i did is v hurtful_

__

He felt a headache come on. The worst part was that his morning had been going so well. He had gotten a decent amount of sleep, Anakin and Ahsoka had both woken up on time and with only minimal complaining, and Ahsoka, once he poured copious amounts of coffee into her, was successfully drawn into a conversation about theoretical magic, which was the most interaction he or Anakion had got out of her in the past month. 

It was only to be expected. Being in your early twenties was hard even without exiting a difficult relationship. Obi-Wan remembered being twenty-three and trying to figure his life out. Or, to be accurate, he remembered being twenty-three and having to deal with fifteen-year-old Anakin, who hated everything but mostly hated him. 

**Ahsoka** . 

There was a long moment before he received a series of texts in rapid succession. 

_So u remember how we were talking about liminal spaces this morning?_

__

_And u said that a new school of thought was that liminal did not only apply to physical geographical locations but also to people who were in transitional periods of life? Esp like transitional emotional states?_

**I recall,** he replied, pressing a knuckle between his eyes to try to alleviate the headache. 

_Well_ _i may have done some googling when u left and i may or may not have decided to give it a try._

__

**Give what a try?**

There was another substantial pause in which a student came to drop off her revised research sources. Obi-Wan recommended a few articles she might find interesting, and by the time she left there was a single text waiting for him. 

Filled with trepidation, he opened it. 

_Opening up that liminal space obvs._

“Obvs,” he repeated in his most withering tone that had sent countless graduate students scurrying to cover. __

**And that brings our conversation back full circle. What did you do? __**

**__**

_I'm not saying things escalated quickly but i did make a new friend._

A picture was attached. It was a selfie, Ahsoka grinning up at the camera. Next to her stood a man, dark skin with short blonde hair and the kind of cheekbones that could cut glass, unsmiling but with an amused tilt to his rather impressive eyebrows. 

There was nothing odd or out of place about him—his ears were perfectly rounded and normal, his eyes were a matched rich brown, and his skin, from what Obi-Wan could tell from the picture, was a bit dry and had none of the glossy perfection that one expected from an elf—but there was something about him, the longer Obi-Wan studied the picture. Something not quite— 

A student knocked on the door, and Obi-Wan locked his phone. 

“I'm sorry,” he said, “but I’m afraid I must cut my office hours short today. My friend just invited a fae into our home. Email what you have and I will give you notes.” 

**I'll be there in 20 minutes,** he sent to Ahsoka. **Don’t do anything until I get there.**

_Too late,_ Ahsoka replied. _He just made me lunch. I saved you some._

Ahsoka’s early twenties, god help them all, would drive them to drink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Obi-Wan/Quinlan Vos and accidentally married/roommate au.
> 
> They end up getting married on some drunken bet and realize they should get divorce. Only until the divorce is finalized every time Obi-Wan brings home a date he has to introduce them to his terrible roommate.
> 
> “I think you mean husband,” Quinlan says from the couch.
> 
> “You’re married?” the date says.
> 
> “Separated,” Obi-Wan replies, glaring at Quinlan, who grins back, unrepentant.
> 
> “But you live together?” his date points out.
> 
> “Rent’s a bitch,” Quinlan says. “This is more economical.”
> 
> Obi-Wan pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know how there’s that stray dog with mange that begs food and follows you around and you know without your intervention it will die? Well, he’s that stray.”
> 
> “Aw, you do care,” Quilan replies.
> 
> “I said you have mange.”
> 
> “I love you, too, buttercup.”
> 
> The date, much like the ones before, makes an excuse to leave at the first opportunity, and Obi-Wan sulks on the opposite end of the couch. “This marriage is ruining my life.”
> 
> “Think of the tax breaks,” Quinlan says. “You want to have sex?”
> 
> Obi-Wan sighs. “Fine, but you’re not talking.”
> 
> Quinlan turns off the television. “You love it,” he says.
> 
> “I really don’t,” Obi-Wan says, but he can at least put Quinlan’s mouth to better use.


	19. Rex/Obi-Wan, in vino veritas/above the influence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: In vino veritas/above the influence. No pairing was specified so I went with Rex and Obi-Wan, obvs.

“Now before you say anything or make with the judgmental eyebrows,” Skywalker said, “this is not our fault.” 

Rex, who had been looking forward to getting a decent night’s sleep for once, looked to where Kenobi drunkenly hung between Skywalker and Tano. 

“With respect, sirs,” Rex said, “I feel that is unlikely to be true.” 

“Here come the eyebrows,” Tano said. 

That seemed to perk up Kenobi, who glanced up, and after a concerning amount of time it took him to focus, smiled in a way that was somehow even more concerning. “Rex,” Kenobi said, his voice lower than his usual timber. “Hello there.” 

Rex shared an alarmed look with Skywalker. “What happened?” 

What happened that in the course of trying to obtain intelligence, Kenobi had either had too much of the local alcohol or possibly been drugged. Other than being grossly inebriated, he was fine, according to Skywalker. He just needed a safe place to sleep it off. 

“That doesn’t explain why you brought him here,” Rex said quietly because Kenobi and stumbled out of Tano’s grip and half-draped himself over Rex’s side. “He’d be better off in medical or even with Cody.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tano said, “you want us to explain _this_ ,” and she gestured to where Kenobi was atonally humming to himself, nearly asleep, “to _Cody?”_

Rex winced. That was a good point. “I'm still unclear on how I got volunteered.” He shifted Kenobi when he started to list to the side. 

Tano shrugged. “He kept asking for you.” 

Oh no. 

Some of his horror must have shown on his face, because Skywalker clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Look, he’s pretty out of it. Just let him sleep and make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit. We need to go clean up this mess.” 

“I really don’t think—” Rex tried to protest, but Skywalker and Tano were already out the door. 

“Good luck,” Tano said, and had the damn audacity to wink at him over her shoulder. 

And then Rex was alone with an inebriated Kenobi who had nuzzled into his shoulder. 

“ _Motherfucker,”_ Rex said with feeling. 

“Anakin has always been a little shit,” Kenobi said with an astounding minimal amount of slurring given his condition. “You should have seen his adolescent years.” 

He maneuvered Kenobi toward the bunk. “I'm sorry I missed that.” With any luck Kenobi would fall asleep as soon as he lay down and Rex could have a nervous breakdown in peace. 

“You shouldn’t be. He was unbearable. I was tempted to strand him on an isolated moon until he figured out how to be a person.” 

“I’m tempted to do that now,” Rex said. 

Kenobi allowed himself to be steered moved toward the bed, although he grasped Rex’s wrist with surprising strength when Rex tried to guide him down. “Hello there,” he said, a bit of hair falling over his forehead, which was very unfair. Rex was a good person. He didn’t deserve this. 

“You said that already,” he pointed out, trying to work his wrist free. 

“Mm, it bears repeating.” That goddamn smile was back, languid and dangerous. “I’ve missed you.” 

Rex wondered if it was worth playing dumb, but even half out of his mind, Kenobi was still one of the smartest men he knew, and so Rex said, “That’s enough, sir. You need sleep.” 

Kenobi flinched as if Rex had struck him, and Rex took advantage of his distraction to slip his wrist free and gently shove Kenobi down onto the mattress. He sprawled gracelessly, limbs akimbo, blinking stupidly upwards. His pupils were blown. 

“I trust you can handle your boots,” Rex said. 

Kenobi contorted himself to tug off the right one and then the left, each thrown carelessly away. They hit the far wall with a thump. 

“It’s true, you know,” Kenobi continued even as he wrestled with the blankets. “I always miss you when you’re not there.” 

“You shouldn’t.” Rex took pity on him and tugged the blanket free. He drew the line at tucking Kenobi in like a young cadet. 

Kenobi tugged the pillow into a better position. “That’s the problem. I shouldn’t and yet I do. I know you do as well.” 

Rex swallowed. “That’s hardly relevant, sir.” 

Kenobi made a frankly undignified face. “Don’t call me that. I hate it.” Which was why Rex kept using it, but he was kind enough not to say what they both knew. “I kept thinking that I’d wait until the war was over, but I don’t know if it’s ever going to end, and I’m running out of excuses. I don’t want to live with any regrets if the worse were to happen. I like to believe it’s the same for you.” 

Kenobi’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes were dark and he was in Rex’s bed, and it would take a better man than Rex to walk away. 

“It is,” he said. Kenobi’s entire face lit up, as if Rex had told him Dooku had surrendered unconditionally. “But you’re drunk right now.” 

Kenobi snorted. “I’m hardly drunk. I can hold my liquor.” 

“You’re not sober,” Rex pointed out, and Kenobi sighed instead of arguing, which proved his point. “Sleep it off, and ask me in the morning, if you remember.” 

“As if I could forget.” Kenobi’s eyes slowly slid shut, and he said, “I will ask you.” 

Rex waited until Kenobi’s breathing evened out, and he said, “And I’ll say yes.” 

And then, settling in with his data pad for the long night ahead, he waited for morning to come. 


	20. Ahsoka/Steela, time travel/green-eyed epiphany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Ahsoka/Steela and time travel/green-eyed epiphany
> 
> But this turned out to be more Ahsoka&Ahsoka.

She moved differently. That was perhaps the most unnerving part of it all. Well, that and finding herself twenty years in the future. That was very strange, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen to her, and Ahsoka was adapting to it as best she could, which was to say she made fun of Rex’s beard until he had punched her in the shoulder, just like old times. She had missed him, so much. 

No, the weirdest part was how Tano moved. It was still her, or would be her in a couple decades, but Ahsoka couldn’t see herself in Tano, beyond the obvious montrails and facial markings. Tano carried herself as if she finally found her place in the universe. She was capable and self-assured, and Ahsoka felt young in her presence. She hated it. 

And what was even worse was how fucking _gentle_ Tano was with her, as if Ahsoka hadn’t held a command in the army and hadn’t made the decision to walk away. Rex had, after the first few days of dismay and awkwardness, fallen back into familiar patterns of giving her affectionate shit, and even Steela had taken to smiling at her in a way that made Ahsoka’s stomach twist and ache. But Tano was so careful it made Ahsoka want to scream. 

She didn’t scream, in the end. But she definitely gasped when she stumbled across Tano and Steela pressed together, Tano’s hand twined into Steela’s hair, and Steela laughing against Tano’s mouth. 

Her stomach had twisted again, and she nearly buckled under the longing. She turned and fled before either of the women noticed her, ending up above navigation, which afforded her a clear view of the stars streaking past. They were headed to the Outer Rim, although no one had bothered to tell her where. 

“Classified,” Rex had said with an apologetic shrug. “Can’t be too careful these days.” 

Ahsoka was getting real sick of that word. 

“Hey, kid,” Tano said because apparently twenty years wasn’t enough to get rid of her terrible sense of timing. 

“Don’t call me that,” Ahsoka said. 

“Would you prefer commander?” Ahsoka glared, and Tano held up her hands. “Sorry, I forget it’s fresher for you.” 

“Yes,” Ahsoka said “I’m not used to it yet, being a civilian.” 

“You’ll get there.” Tano settled next to her, legs pulled towards her chest and arm resting on her knees. It was a near mirror identical to how she was sitting, and Ahsoka stretched her legs out just to be contrary. Tano noticed with a smile. “So you finally figure it out?” 

“Figure what out?” 

“Who you were really jealous of on Onderon. I’ll give you a hint: it was Lux, but not for the reason you think.” 

She scowled before she could help it. “It wasn’t like that for me.” 

“You know you can’t lie to me.” Tano leaned forward and tapped her forehead, causing Ahsoka to jerk back and angrily swat her hand away. “You’re me, kid. We were there. You were so fucking jealous.” 

“I was not,” Ahsoka protested, but she had been. She saw Steela dart in for that kiss, Lux’s eyes going wide in surprise before sliding shut, and Ahsoka had wanted so bad even though she could give no name to that want. 

“You were jealous of Lux,” Tano continued, but gentle now, “because Steela chose him and not you.” 

She thought of Tano’s hand in Steela’s hair. “It doesn’t matter. I’m a Jedi.” She stopped, the title sitting bitter on her tongue. “I was a Jedi. They don’t go in for that sort of thing.” 

“It’s a brave new world for us.” There was a sadness to her words, and Tano rested her cheek on her hand. “It gets better.” 

“Does it?” Ahsoka asked, ashamed of how small her voice was. “Because it’s pretty bad from when I’m from.” 

Tano sighed, and this time when she reached out to tuck two fingers under her chin, Ahsoka let her. “It’s not great here, either, but you have Rex and you have Steela. You’re not alone. I can promise that much, at least.” 

Ahsoka took Tano’s hand in her own. “Are we happy with Steela?” 

“Yes,” Tano answered. “I love her and she loves me.” 

Ahsoka nodded, swallowing the longing down. “And is that really Anakin?” 

Tano flinched, as Ahsoka knew she would. “You noticed.” 

“I'm not stupid,” Ahsoka said. “You know that. And don’t lie to me or be gentle or any of that shit. Just tell me the truth. Is it him?” 

Tano closed her eyes, and said, “It’s him. Everything you’ve heard since arriving, the purge, Alderaan, the younglings, it’s true. He did all those things.” 

“Would it be different if I stayed?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” Tano answered. “We might have died with the others.” 

Ahsoka looked at Tano properly for the first time since she arrived, taking in the planes of her face and the length of her montrails, searching out how the years had changed her. “Do I regret walking away?” 

“Yes,” Tano said. 

“But I had to, didn’t I?” 

“I can’t tell you that. You gotta figure it out for yourself.” 

Ahsoka stared down at their joined hands. They were the same, or they would be in a twenty years. Their choices were their own. That didn’t make it fair. 

“But I’ll have Rex, and I’ll have Steela,” she said. “I won’t be alone.” 

“We’re never alone,” Tano said. 

Ahsoka squeezed her hand. “We never are.” 

They sat in comfortable silence until Tano said, “We were so fucking jealous of Lux.” 

Ahsoka gave in with a groan. “She’s so pretty and she went for _him?”_

“Right?” Tano laughed. “He has a weird dough face.” 

“And remember how useless he was? Took me ages to get him even halfway competent!” 

“If it helps,” Tano said, “she likes us a lot more than she does him.” 

“You know,” Ahsoka said, hand in hand with Tano, “it kind of does.” 


	21. Rex/Obi-Wan, royal au/fake dating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Rex/Obi-Wan and royal au/fake dating
> 
> If there's one thing I learned from this ask meme is that y'all love royal aus.

Obi-Wan called on Tuesday because he refused to text like a normal person. Rex was surprised he used a phone at all instead of just sending missives by carrier pigeon. Obi-Wan was the type of aristocrat who gave the impression of wearing a cravat despite it being out of fashion for a hundred years or so. It was an endearing if baffling quality.

“I have need of the Arrangement,” Obi-Wan said, apologetic. “It’s my brother.”

“What has the kid done this time?” he asked because with Anakin it could be any number of things that landed him in a social media shitstorm.

“I’d prefer to tell you in person.”

Rex winced. “That bad?”

“I’m afraid so.” There was the sound of flipping pages, which meant Obi-Wan was consulting his calendar. “I’m by you next week. Lunch on Thursday?”

Rex most likely had a committee meeting, but his chief of staff could reschedule. “I’ll see you then,” he said, and then went to inform his mother.

* * *

The Arrangement was quite simple. When one of their respective brothers caused a scandal, minor or not, Rex and Obi-Wan allowed themselves to be seen in public engaging in affections that could not strictly be called romantic. The media and internet would implode for a week, allowing their brothers to escape unscathed, and they would fade from the spotlight until the time the idiots did something incredibly stupid.

“I’ll let our press secretary know,” his mother said when Rex told her. She found the whole Arrangement to be hilarious, and always gave at least one ambiguous quote to the media just to egg it on.

“Just an idea,” Cody said, “but have you considered perhaps actually dating him? That way you don’t have to lie.”

“Not a bad idea,” said his mother because Cody had inherited his terrible sense of humor from her. “He’s practically family, and you know how having a white boy around makes the other heads of state feel more comfortable.”

“I regret being related to you both,” Rex said, and closed the door on their laughter.

* * *

They had lunch at a small restaurant, seated in the back corner for privacy but not so private they wouldn’t be noticed, their respective security teams arranged around them. Obi-Wan looked tired, but then he always did. He still managed a smile when he saw Rex, letting their embrace linger.

“So,” Rex said once they placed their orders, “want to tell me what all of this is about?”

“Later,” Obi-Wan said, and nodded to the window where the paparazzi were already assembling.

They had a pleasant meal, and if their hands happened to brush more than usual, and if Obi-Wan made a point of leaning into Rex’s space, they were good friends, after all. Even the internet knew that.

“Care to go for a walk?” Obi-Wan asked as he paid the bill.

“It’s a nice day,” Rex agreed, surprised. Obi-Wan hated to be seen in public more than necessary, and they had certainly more than played their part to direct all attention onto themselves. He had expected them to retire back to the house Rex kept in the city where Obi-Wan could explain what was going on. “We can go to mine. It’s not that far.”

Their security pushed a path, and they strolled leisurely along as if they were unaware of their picture being taken by anyone with a phone, which was everyone. Obi-Wan took his hand.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked quietly.

Obi-Wan leaned into his side and said, “Padme’s pregnant.”

“That’s not terrible.”

She and Anakin were unmarried, which was sure to set off a minor discourse about moral degradation, but then so did he and Obi-Wan with their Arrangement. Cody delighted in antagonizing certain segments of the media over it.

“They’re eloping,” Obi-Wan said. “And Anakin is renouncing his title. He doesn’t want his children to be raised how we were. Can’t say I blame him. It’s not an easy life for a child.”

“Shit,” Rex said with feeling.

Obi-Wan quirked a brow. “That about sums it up.”

“That leaves you as the sole inheritor.”

“It does.” Obi-Wan quickened his pace. They were nearing the residence. “I was always going to inherit, so that doesn’t change.”

“But you have no one to share the responsibility with now,” Rex said, thinking of Cody. He may be the next in line to the throne, but Cody would not shoulder the burden alone.

“Well, let’s be honest. Anakin was never going to be much help there.” Obi-Wan smiled only for it to fade. “I’ve only wanted him to be happy, and this will make him so. I would give him what privacy I can, and that means the focus needs to be elsewhere.”

Rex considered that as they turned onto the correct street. “How far along is Padme?”

“Five months,” Obi-Wan answered.

Rex raised his eyebrows. He had no idea how she and the kid managed to hide it so far, but they couldn’t keep it up much longer.

“This is going to require a lot more than a lunch,” he pointed out as they climbed the steps to the front door.

“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan said. “This is a lot to ask, I know, but it’s my brother, and you’ve always understood what that means.”

“I do,” Rex said because there was very little he wouldn’t do for his family, even Cody. He stared at the flush that was creeping up from Obi-Wan’s collar. The paparazzi were gathered at the gate. “Cody and my mother are going to be unbearable.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows in confusion, and before he could ask Rex cupped his jaw and kissed him. Obi-Wan made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, his hands coming to grip Rex’s waist. Rex let the kiss stretch and stretch, sweetly licking into Obi-Wan’s mouth. The world faded to the press of Obi-Wan against him and the faint prickle of Obi-Wan’s beard against his palm.

Obi-Wan drew back, tonguing his bottom lip, and said, breathless, “That should do it.”

Rex glanced over his shoulder at the frantic sound of camera shutters.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “I think the next few news cycles are ours.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, and then plucked the keys from Rex’s hand to open the door to usher him inside. Rex let him because, as Cody was so fond of pointing out, he was an idiot.

And because he was an idiot, he slid a hand to the small of Obi-Wan’s back and followed his lead.


	22. Baze/Chirrut, forgotten first meeting/arranged marriage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Baze/Chirrut and forgotten first meeting/arranged marriage

“It’s not too late,” Pema said, straightening the fall of his robe. “Nothing is agreed. We can still back out.” 

Baze let her fuss. That morning she had twisted his hair into traditional betrothal braids and prepared the finest robes they still could afford. The Îmwe family was not their only option, but they were the only one Baze would accept. 

“I want to,” Baze told her. 

Pema searched his face for a long moment before giving a rueful smile. She went up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “If you change your mind, just say the word and we’ll go. We don’t have to do this.” 

That was a lie. Their family was not what it once was, only him and his sister left, but he appreciated the sentiment. Pema always looked after him. 

“Shall we?” she said, and promptly knocked on the door. 

Madame Îmwe answered, her hair piled in complicated loops and knots upon her head. “Welcome,” she said, bidding them inside. “I’m afraid business has taken my wife out of the city, but my son is here to greet you.” 

“You honor us,” Pema said. 

Stomach in knots, Baze looked around, but there was no sign of— 

“Chirrut!” Madame Îmwe called, exasperated. “Come welcome our guests.” 

“They can come greet me!” Chirrut shouted back. “I can’t find my way to you!” 

“He’s very spirited,” Madame Îmwe said with a strained smile. “Please, I’ve prepared tea.” 

“Thank you,” Pema said, and shot Baze a look behind her back. 

“I think it’s going well,” Baze whispered to her, and received an elbow to the ribs for his efforts. 

They were led to an ornate parlor. The Îmwes had recently come to wealth, and their decoration reflected that. It had none of the restrained stateliness of the old families, but Baze appreciated the boldness of their choices, as if they did not care how it reflected on them. It was refreshing. 

Chirrut Îmwe was seated at the low table sipping obnoxiously from a cup nearly overflowing with tea. “I won’t pour for you for obvious reasons,” he said, gesturing to his eyes. 

Madame Îmwe’s lips thinned. 

“Then I would pour for you,” Baze said, “if you had not made that unnecessary.” 

Chirrut’s head cocked to the side. “You should know that I do not respond well to flattery.” 

“Chirrut, be polite,” Madame Îmwe said, trying to subtly cuff her son along the back of his head. “They are guests.” 

“What do you respond well to?” Baze asked, curious. 

With a smile, Chirrut said, “Would you care to find out?” 

“We are having tea,” Madame Îmwe firmly said before Baze could respond. 

Baze looked to Pema, who sighed very quietly and said, “Perhaps we should let them speak in private, Madame. We are here, after all, to join our families through marriage.” 

Madame Îmwe hesitated. “I'm not sure that is wise, Mistress Malbus.” 

“Don’t worry,” Chirrut said. “I shall be quite attentive to his needs.” 

“Yes, that is what worries me,” she said, but it was obvious she was giving in. “Please be respectful of their time, Chirrut.” 

“I'm always respectful,” Chirrut said in what was an audacious lie. “You, come along.” 

Baze obediently followed Chirrut through the house and outside where Chirrut nimbly scaled the wall. He perched on the top, perfectly balanced on his toes. “If you are to be my husband, you need to keep up.” 

Baze hiked up his robes with a silent apology to Pema, and followed. He was perhaps slower than Chirrut, but Baze was no stranger to such escapades and managed easily enough. 

Chirrut, who had forgotten after all, seemed surprised when Baze gently touched his shoulder. “I'm not impressed,” Chirrut told him, and dropped down to the street. 

“I did not expect for you to be,” Baze said truthfully, following. 

They ambled towards the marketplace, and Baze knew better than to offer his elbow. “You must be desperate for money,” Chirrut remarked. 

“All of Jedha knows of our predicament,” Baze answered, unashamed; it was what it was, and there was no use dwelling on what could not be changed. “There have been many offers.” 

“Then my mothers must be even more desperate if you’ve accepted. Tell me, how much are they paying you to marry me?” 

“It was actually one of the smaller dowry offers made,” Baze said, and had the pleasure of seeing Chirrut startled into silence. It did not last long. 

“Is it pity?” Chirrut asked bitterly. “Do you feel sorry for the blind boy who cannot find a spouse of his own so his mothers seek to purchase one for him?” 

“Have you considered,” Baze said, gentle, “that I like you?” 

Chirrut’s mouth twisted. “You don’t know me.” 

That was true. Chirrut had changed over the years, as had Baze. Chirrut had finally hit his growth and his coltish limbs had filled out with muscle. He was lean and strong, and Baze ignored the urge to put his hands on Chirrut to feel that strength for himself. 

“No,” Baze said, and that was not a lie. A chance meeting when they children hardly counted as knowing someone, but Chirrut had been a kind child, if one given to wildness, and he had grinned at Baze as if Baze was his favorite person in the world. “But I would like to.” 

Chirrut considered that, a haughty lift to his chin, so much like the Chirrut from his memories that Baze felt himself smile, helpless. 

“Then you can buy me a drink,” Chirrut said. 

“As much as I would like to,” Baze said, “my family is incredibly poor. I don’t have the funds, which is why we’re betrothed. I thought you were merely blind, but apparently you are also addled in the head.” 

Chirrut blinked in surprise before grinning, delighted. “There might be hope for this marriage yet,” he declared, and tucked his hand into the bend of Baze’s elbow. “I suppose I can pay for you, just this once.” 

“You’re very kind,” Baze said dryly. 

“I am, aren’t I?” Chirrut replied, still grinning, and Baze was helpless but to return it. 

And then, arm in arm, Chirrut dragged him forward to what came next. 


	23. Cody/Quinlan Vos, not a date/I didn't mean to turn you on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Cody/Quinlan (aka my trash ship) and not a date/I didn't meant to turn you on.
> 
> This takes place in the leverage au that I swear to god I will get around to actually writing one day

On the third day of observing the mark at the coffee bar, Vos said, “So your brother and Obi-Wan.” 

Cody didn’t look up from the crossword. “What about them?” 

“They’re a thing now apparently.” 

Cody filled in three down. “Apparently. You jealous?” 

Vos shrugged. “Curious. Kenobi was never the dating type. I should know.” 

The mark placed his order. It was the same as the previous days: half-caf latte, extra hot, five and half Splenda, which meant he got as many packets as the bitter barista felt like ripping open, stirred, and no foam, which defeated the purpose of it being a latte. An order that complicated gave them plenty to work with provided they could get Fives behind the counter. The angry barista had taken an inexplicable shine to him that could prove helpful. 

“I’m very surprised none of your terrible flirting worked,” Cody said. 

The mark, against all common sense, was trying to make conversation with the bitter barista, who was most likely giving him decaf shots while looking aggressively bored. 

“I’ll have you know I’m very accomplished at flirting.” Vos leaned in close, elbow propped on Cody’s arm rest. “I’ve just never flirted with you.” 

He eyed Vos’ elbow, contemplating if it was worth the attention it would draw if he’d knock Vos’ arm out from under him. “How sad for me.” 

Quinlan grinned. “It is a shame you haven’t experienced it yet.” 

The bitter barista handed the mark his drink and blatantly turned her attention back to the espresso machine in a clear dismissal that was rather beautiful. Inspired, Cody filled in 11 across. 

“You spelled ‘malignant’ wrong,” Vox pointed. 

“I did not,” Cody said. 

The mark paused as he passed by their table, frowning at them as he fumbled for his phone. Damn. 

“This means nothing,” Cody said, and boldly placed his hand high on Vos’ thigh. 

“Your eyes say differently.” Vos’ leaned in closer and dropped his voice. “He’s trying to get a pic of us. We should probably avoid that.” 

“Rex is going to be such a shit,” Cody said, setting the paper aside. He slid a hand into Vos’ hair and tugged him close. “Make this look good.” 

“Oh, I’m always goo—” 

Cody kissed him before he could finish the sentence. Vos, to his credit, did make it look good, letting his legs fall open further as he pressed into the kiss, mouth opening under his. Cody tugged lightly on Vos’ hair, and Vos made a sharp, surprised noise in the back of his throat, which was a nice touch. 

They were putting on quite the spectacle; it worked and the mark muttered an uncomplimentary observation about obvious displays of affection as he pocketed his phone and continued on his way. 

“Nice work,” Cody said, leaning back. “He didn’t get a shot of our faces.” 

“What?” Vos said, blinking rapidly. His cheeks were flushed. “Oh. Right. We, uh, got what we need?” 

Cody folded his paper neatly. “He comes here every day at the same time and orders the same drink, and the barista hates him. We got it all.” 

“Good. That’s good.” 

He stood. “We need to start coordinating with the others.” Vos nodded but made no move to stand. “Are you all right?” 

“What? Oh, I'm fine. Everything is fine.” Vos still didn’t move, instead opting to run a hand through his hair. “Why? Is something not fine?” 

Cody raised his eyebrows. “We should go,” he said slowly. 

“Oh.” Vos cleared his voice and refused to meet his eyes. “Right now? Shouldn’t we wait just to make sure he’s gone?” 

“He’s gone. What is wrong with—” Cody stopped when a thought occurred to him. He grinned. “Do you need a minute?” 

Vox’s flush deepened. He still wouldn’t meet Cody’s gaze. “I'm fine.” 

Cody leaned down, bracketing Vos in the chair. He leaned in close and said, “Did I rock your world?” 

Vos scowled and knocked Cody’s left arm from under him, but as Cody was expecting it he kept his balance. “Fuck off,” Vos said. “You’re not that good.” 

Cody stepped back so that Vos could finally stand. Unable to help himself, he tugged on a stray strand of hair just to watch Vos jump. “You know, I think I just might be.” 

“I was going easy on you,” Vos said, stalking out. “Next time I won’t.” 

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.” 

Vos spun on his heel and grabbed Cody by the hips, dragging him in close. “I always follow through,” he said, and pressed a kiss just below Cody’s left ear. “Now I believe we have a con to run.” 

“So we do,” Cody said, savoring the fissure of excitement when a job came together. On the way out, he patted Vos on the ass just because he could. 


	24. Rex/Obi-Wan, makeovers/magical accidents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Rex/Obi-Wan and makeovers/magical accident.
> 
> I added Cody to this for extra fun and also this in no way got away from me.

Cody had just settled in for the night when the first text arrived from Rex. _Do you still have the aquarium tank?_

Fives had tried his hand at creating and maintaining an aquatic ecosystem to impress a boy. After a month he ditched the ecosystem but somehow, against all odds, kept the boy. The tank had ended up in the spare room with the rest of the shit they were all too lazy to get rid of. 

_Why?_ He sent back. 

_Bring it over. And don’t laugh._

That was strange enough to rouse his curiosity, which was how Cody ended up hauling himself and a five gallon tank across the city to be greeted by Rex, who said, “Seriously, don’t laugh.” 

“Oh, no need to thank me,” Cody said dryly, shoving the tank into Rex’s arms and pushing past him into the house. “You weren’t interrupting any plans I had. It was no problem.” 

“Don’t laugh,” Rex repeated, wild about the eyes. “If you do I will disown you.” 

That was serious, and Cody nearly felt guilty for his glibness. “What’s wrong? Are you all right? Where’s Obi-Wan?” 

“In his office.” Rex tilted his head to the closed door. “You can’t laugh.” 

“The way you’re repeating that is not reassuring,” Cody said, and opened the door. 

Obi-Wan’s office was the perfect stereotype of an eccentric academic who wished teaching didn’t require so many students. Bookshelves were crammed against every wall, the books themselves spilling over any unoccupied surface from the desk to the chairs to even piles of other books. The floor was covered in various chalk circles and equations, some of which Cody recognized for mass and heat conversion. Obi-Wan had taken an interest in transmutation magic and the various associated physics. The man himself was nowhere to be soon. 

There was a small yellow bucket set in the middle of the room. Draped over the lip was a small sad looking octopus with ginger markings. When it caught sight of Cody, it lifted a tentacle in the air. 

“Huh,” Cody said. “Is that—?” 

“Yes,” Rex said, pushing past to set the tank down next to the bucket. 

Obi-Wan gave it a disgusted look. Or what Cody assumed was disgusted as octopus expressions were difficult to parse. 

“One moment,” he said, and went back into the hall and proceeded to go outside, firmly shutting the door behind him. He collapsed against it and laughed so hard he stopped making sound. 

The door was wrenched opened and nearly sent him sprawling on his ass. Cody caught himself and found Rex scowling at him. 

“I didn’t laugh in front of him,” Cody said. 

“He still knows,” Rex said. 

“If our positions were reversed he would be bitingly sarcastic, and you know it.” 

Rex sighed. “Try to keep it together in front of him.” 

“Of course,” Cody said because he wasn’t a complete bastard. “What happened?” 

“We think two of the books had an adverse reaction to one another and this was the result.” 

Books of any nature were troublesome things, but those with a magical bent were volatile. Obi-Wan was usually more careful, but Cody knew how he got when he was in the depths of a project. It was a good thing Rex was patient because Cody was pretty sure Obi-Wan had forgotten at least once they were dating much less Rex had moved in with him. 

“Which ones?” he asked. 

Rex shrugged. “He doesn’t remember. The transformation fucked with his memory. I already called Master Nu to assist. Hopefully she can figure this out.” 

“Smart,” Cody said. “I suppose you want help?” 

“I’m not going to say no,” Rex said, relieved. 

Cody clapped him on the shoulder. “I'm here for you.” As they went back inside, he added, “This does remind of that one woodcut.” 

“If you finish that thought,” Rex said, “not only will I actually disown you but no one will ever find your body.” 

“Like you could actually take me,” Cody said, and let himself back into the office. 

Obi-Wan was still hanging sadly over the edge of the bucket, a few tentacles trailing to the floor. It seemed he hadn’t mastered how to move yet. 

“Why the aquarium?” Cody asked as Rex moved forward. 

“He refuses to stay in the bucket,” Rex said, trying to scoop Obi-Wan up. Obi-Wan recoiled. “Look, if you go in here you can see out.” 

He lifted the bucket, and three of Obi-Wan’s tentacles whipped out to wrap around Rex’s wrist. Rex’s expression carefully did not change. He emptied the bucket into the tank. Obi-Wan wrapped tighter around him and hung there, gently swaying back and forth. 

“Shut it,” Rex said. 

“Didn’t say a word,” Cody said, which earned him a tentacle flicking in his general direction. 

“You’re not going to drown,” Rex said, gently trying to pry Obi-Wan off, tentacle by tentacle, and failing spectacularly. 

Cody sighed and against his better judgment went to help. He grabbed Obi-Wan about the body, or to be more accurate the head. It was cold and clammy and Cody desperately wished this wasn’t his life. “Jocasta Nu is on her way. You can either get in the aquarium with some dignity intact or have her see you making a scene.” 

Obi-Wan’s tentacles drooped, and together he and Rex placed the clingy bastard into the aquarium. Obi-Wan, like any right thinking academic, lived in fear of Master Nu, mostly because no one else had raised cutting disappointment to an art form. Cody quite liked her. 

“Right,” Cody said once Obi-Wan was had settled into a good sulk in the corner, “let’s sort through these.” He eyed the tank. “Do you at least remember the ones you were studying?” 

Through an escalating series of tentacle charades, they were able to narrow down the number of books. It was still quite a bit, but it meant that they might be able to solve this in a few days rather than weeks, which was a relief. Cody doubted Rex was any more eager than him to google what octopuses ate. 

Master Nu arrived twenty minutes later, looking like she had been called out of bed. She took in the scene and said, “My dear boy, I taught you better than that.” Obi-Wan waved a tentacle at her that was only matched in sadness by Rex’s face. Nu patted Rex’s arm. “We’ll get this sorted. Don’t worry. Focus on books about transmutation and then we’ll narrow it by temperament. They must be quite irritable to do this.” 

She clapped her hands and they got to work. 

* * *

“You have too many books,” Cody groaned hours later. He had a crick in his neck and at least one paper cut from a tome that had objected to being disturbed. 

Obi-Wan had crawled to the top of the aquarium and made a rude gesture with his tentacles. 

Cody turned a pointed look at Rex, who said, ears turning a bright red, “You promised, remember?” 

Cody eyed Obi-Wan and turned his attention to his book. 

* * *

“No,” Nu said, holding the cup out of the reach of Obi-Wan’s curling tentacles. “I’m certain tea is not good for octopuses.” 

Obi-Wan, knowing better than to give her the same treatment as Cody, retreated into the aquarium, sulking so hard his ginger markings turned blue. 

Cody took out his phone and started recording. 

* * *

Around two am Obi-Wan had finally figured out how all his limbs worked and was currently scurrying about the office so quickly that Cody couldn’t follow. They tracked his progress by the ominous rustling noises as the books reacted to his presence. 

“At least he’s in a better mood,” Nu comments, soothing an agitated tome before setting it aside. 

Cody snorted. “It’s more like—” 

“Don’t,” Rex said. 

“Horror movie,” Cody said. “I was going to say this is like a horror movie.” There was a rustling above his head, and he added, “If you jump on me I am posting every video I have to the internet. Do not test me.” 

Obi-Wan retreated. 

* * *

It was near dawn when Cody had to set aside the latest book, pressing a knuckle to the corner of his eye. He could no longer force himself to focus on the words in front of him and no amount of coffee chased away the grit in his eyes. Even Nu, who hadn’t once complained, had given to the exhaustion and donned a pair of glasses. 

Cody was about to suggest they take a break and try to get at least an hour of sleep when he saw Obi-Wan, who had crawled to the top of the aquarium, gently wrap one tentacle around Rex’s wrist. 

“We’ll figure this out,” Rex said softly. 

Obi-Wan merely tapped another book with a tentacle, and Rex obligingly opened it so they could both read the text. 

Cody heaved a sigh and reached for the next volume in his stack. 

* * *

Dawn had crested and faded into morning when Nu said, “I believe I have it.” 

Cody, who had given in hours ago and made himself comfortable on the floor, rolled onto his back. “What do you need?” 

“Chalk,” Nu said. “Colored preferably, if you have it. And a good bit of clear space.” 

Cody dragged himself to his feet to begin rifling through Obi-Wan’s desk, eventually unearthing a box of chalk from under what appeared to be a tangle of wires of various lengths that served no purpose. 

Rex cleared a space for her while Obi-Wan looked on, half-awake. “This good?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Nu said, and took the chalk. To Obi-Wan, she said, “Really, my boy, you should have known better than to have a Pythagorean in such close quarters to a Hawking. You know how they tend to argue.” 

Obi-Wan managed to look contrite, which was quite a feat for an octopus. 

Nu began with the first circle, and Rex and Cody helped her on the more fiddly bits as her knees and eyesight weren’t what they used to be. By the time they finished close to an hour later, a giant rainbow of complex equations had taken over most of the office floor. 

Rex, under Nu’s strict instructions, deposited Obi-Wan in the center, careful not to smudge any of the marks. 

“Now what?” Rex asked once he stepped back. 

“Give it a minute,” said Cody. “It usually takes the magic a bit to figure out what needs to be set right.” 

It took nearly ten minutes, during which Obi-Wan impatiently tapped his tentacles, before the magic worked out what needed to be done. What followed was a series of unpleasantly wet noises and the taste of copper, but the end result was Obi-Wan once more in his proper shape, blinking dazedly at them. 

“Hello,” Obi-Wan said, and promptly fell over. 

“Forgot how to use two legs, huh?” Cody said as Rex rushed over. 

“No,” Obi-Wan said, but considering he still hadn’t stood that was clearly a yes. 

“You’ll be fine,” Nu said, already gathering her coat and bag. “Call me if there are any adverse side effects. Oh, and make sure you keep these two in their respective corners.” 

“All right,” Cody said once she was gone. “I'm going to sleep for the next ten hours in your guest room, and then you’re going to feed me.” 

Obi-Wan struggled into a sitting position. “Thank you, Cody. I appreciate your assistance and discretion.” 

“You get a week before the tentacle jokes start,” Cody said, “and you only get that because Rex was worried about you.” 

“I suppose that’s fair,” Obi-Wan said, turning so that his nose nudged against Rex’s. 

Cody quietly left, pulling the door closed behind him to give them privacy. 

Into the group chat that pointedly did not include Rex or Obi-Wan, he attached a picture of Obi-Wan sulking in the aquarium and sent _Guess what the asshole managed to do to himself._

He made it half a dozen steps before he heard the unmistakable sounds of both Rex and Obi-Wan’s phones chiming incessantly. 

“You absolute fucker!” Rex shouted, but it was too late. Cody was already in bed, smiling. 


	25. Rex/Obi-Wan, time travel/mistaken for a couple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: time travel and mistaken for a couple.
> 
> As no fandom or pairing was requested, I decided to stick to my brand and go with Rex/Obi-Wan.

Of all the things Obi-Wan had forgotten about Satine in the years since Mandalore’s civil war, the most aggravating was her utter conviction that she was always right even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. 

“Your marriage must be very young,” Satine said. 

Obi-Wan bit back a sigh. “For the last time, Duchess, we are not married, and Rex is not my husband.” 

“Of course,” Satine agreed in a way that set Obi-Wan’s teeth on edge. “Your Jedi code. But he does watch you.” 

This Satine was still young, even in the midst of a war. He hadn’t noticed, the first time around, but then Obi-Wan had been young, too. He remembered watching Satine through that long year as they fled one faction after another. The months had weight heavily on all of them, even Qui-Gon, but they seemed to hone Satine to a sharpness that cut to the heart of Mandalore itself, and Obi-Wan had loved her for what she became, even back then. 

But this Satine had not yet lived through those months of terror and war. She had yet to pick up a blaster in order to defend herself and her people, she had not sat with a dead man’s blood drying on her arms, and she had not watched her sister, the last living family she had, walk away. 

She was still hopeful, and so she’d taken one look at him and Rex and said, “I was not expecting the Jedi Council to send a married pair.” 

Rex had turned an alarming shade of red, and Obi-Wan had sighed and said, “I’m afraid you’re wrong on both accounts, Duchess.” 

“What is he to you, then?” Satine asked as they trudged through more of Mandalore’s undergrowth. “He must mean something to you or you wouldn’t have brought him.” 

It was not worth the argument to point out that Obi-Wan hadn’t decided to bring Rex along. How he and Rex ended up in the past was still a mystery, and it wasn’t like Rex had any more of a choice in the matter than Obi-Wan. 

“He’s a friend,” Obi-Wan said. Rex and Bo Katan had taken point, and if they were having their own conversation regarding marital status, Obi-Wan was not privy to the details. Bo Katan had taken a shine to Rex, who was mildly baffled by it. He always seemed surprised when someone outside the army enjoyed his company. It was oddly endearing. 

“A friend,” Satine repeated. “All of us would be so lucky to have such a good friend as him.” 

“Just a friend,” Obi-Wan stressed, which was when Rex chose that moment to look back, eyebrows raised in question. Obi-Wan shook his head, aware of Satine’s amusement growing by the minute. 

Rex and Bo Katan fell back, and Satine joined her sister, the two of them drawing away. 

“Problem, sir?” Rex said. 

“You mean other than her damn stubbornness?” Obi-Wan said. “No, Captain.” 

“I can only imagine how aggravating it must be to deal with someone who refuses to listen to reason.” 

“It is very trying,” Obi-Wan said, fighting back a smile. Anakin had been delighted when Rex had begun to talk back to him, and Obi-Wan wasn’t ashamed to admit he also found it appealing. Rex possessed quite the quick wit. 

“You’re managing very well, sir,” Rex said. “I could barely hear you grinding your teeth.” 

Obi-Wan snorted. “I had forgotten how accomplished she is at getting under one’s skin.” 

“Really? I seem to recall several shouting matches that suggest otherwise.” 

“That’s different.” 

“How?” 

“I was goading her, obviously,” Obi-Wan said. 

Rex carefully did not smile. “Obviously. My mistake.” 

“It’s an easy error to make, Captain,” Obi-Wan said, patting his shoulder. “I won’t hold it against you.” 

Satine cleared her throat. “Master Kenobi, if you and your _friend_ would be so kind as to hurry up, we’re nearing the encampment.” 

Rex schooled his expression into professional blankness and said, “Just between us, sir, I don’t disagree with you.” 

Obi-Wan got the feeling the clones mainly viewed Satine with suspicion, and he supposed encountering Satine’s young self did little to change that. 

“You support is appreciated, Rex.” 

“Hey,” Bo Katan said. “We get it. You’re married. Move your asses.” 

Satine had the audacity to wink. 

Rex’s flushed and even Obi-Wan could feel his cheeks heat. 

“Have I mentioned I’m not looking forward to living through this a second time?” Obi-Wan said quietly. 

“It was strongly implied,” Rex said, his gaze damn near fond. 

Satine wasn’t wrong; Rex did watch him. If he were more accomplished at lying to himself, Obi-Wan would say he never looked back, but god help him he did. 

“Better not keep them waiting,” Rex said, and then, falling neatly in step, they joined the sisters, together. 


	26. Rex/Obi-Wan, big damn kiss/flirting under fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Obirex and big damn kiss/flirting under fire
> 
> What is flirting is not giving your significant others endless amounts of shit? (I still can't write flirting)

In Rex’s long and storied career in various military conflicts, the least reassuring sound he heard was the captain of an at best questionably functional ship say, “Uh.” 

Rex sighed and, pivoting the turret to take out another TIE, said, “Is there a problem, Captain?” 

“There’s not a problem,” Solo said as he was an unrepentant liar. There was the faint smell of smoke. “Chewie’s just gotta check on our hyperdrive. And our steering.” 

Rex picked off the last of the TIE fighters. He flicked on his comm and said, “What’s your position?” 

“We’re on the southern cliffs,” Obi-Wan replied, sounding slightly winded. 

“Can you hold out there?” 

There was a briefest pause interrupted by the distinctive whine of a lightsaber. “Thankfully we’ve the upper ground. We can manage for a bit. I take it our daring rescue is delayed?” 

“By a few minutes,” Rex answered. His aiming display flickered, but a quick hit from the heel of his hand settled it. “The engine is on fire.” 

“The engine is not on fire,” Solo shouted. “Navigation is.” 

“Oh, well, who needs navigation?” Obi-Wan said. 

There was a ping on his radar. Another TIE squadron had been dispatched, and Rex reset the turret. The _Falcon_ was old even by Alliance standards, but her weapons system was about the only reliable thing about her, which Rex could relate to. 

“Unless you want to be trapped there for the foreseeable future,” he said, taking aim, “you do.” 

He fired, clipping the wing. The TIE spiraled before righting itself. Damn. 

“It’s not a bad place,” Obi-Wan said, definitely winded now. “It has a nice view. Luke, watch—” 

There was the sound of blaster fire, on his end as well as Obi-Wan’s, and Rex took a deep breath and ignored the clench of his stomach. Against all odds, he and Obi-Wan had made it to nearly old age, and all that experience they had at not dying was proving useful. 

“You still there?” Rex asked when Solo set him up with the perfect shot to take out another TIE. More were coming, but at least now they had some breathing room. 

“We’re here,” Luke answered. “If you could maybe hurry that rescue along.” 

More TIEs were coming up fast, which was when Chewie shouted a warning as the _Falcon_ kicked into gear, pressing Rex back into the seat. He took a few shots to buy them space. 

“Did he fucking get shot again?”he asked. 

“I did not,” Obi-Wan retorted tartly. “I’m fine.” 

A lucky shot clipped their starboard side, and sent them spinning before Solo righted them with a curse. “You’re supposed to be keeping them off us!” Solo yelled. 

“And your ship is not supposed to be on fire!” he shouted back, ignoring Chewie’s assurances he was working on that. To Obi-Wan, he said, “Are you fine like how you were fine on Genosis?” 

Obi-Wan made a frustrated noise. “Genosis had extenuating circumstances.” 

“You broke every single rib you have.” 

“Not every rib.” Obi-Wan was noticeably breathing heavier, and he could hear Luke muttering an annoyed, “You’re doing this now? You can’t wait till later?” 

“I gotta agree with the kid,” Solo said. “This can probably wait. And you got more incoming on your left.” 

“It cannot wait,” said Obi-Wan because he was a stubborn bastard and age had only made him impossibly more obstinate. “And if we’re bringing Genosis into this then let’s talk about Saleumcai.” 

“It was a sniper,” Rex snapped. It was fundamentally unfair that Cody had taken Leia, the only sensible one, under his wing and Rex was stuck with the lot of them. “That doesn’t count.” 

“It counts,” Obi-Wan said, and then, “I’ve hope you been paying attention to your lessons, Luke.” 

“I have,” Luke said, grim, before Rex lost them both to static. 

Rex breathed in and out, and shot down another TIE. “Chewie, tell me you fixed this fucking thing.” 

“Hey!” Solo snapped. “Show some respect.” 

Chewie had, he said pointedly before they could argue further, patched everything up, and no sooner had he spoken the words than Solo was dragging them into a vertigo inducing climb. 

“I got eyes on them,” Solo said. “Think you can keep the bastards off us long enough to grab them?” 

“Yes,” Rex said. 

“Then hold on.” 

Rex, confined to the turret as he was, didn’t get to witness the rescue, of Obi-Wan and Luke backed to the edge of the cliff, of the ramp lowered just long enough for them to leap onto it, Luke young and confident and Obi-Wan faltering. Then the ramp was raised, the airlock activated as they jumped to hyperspace. 

Rex shut down the systems and climbed out of the turret, wincing as his knees cracked. Growing old had its downsides, and his joints refusing to work like they used to was just one of them. 

Luke and Obi-Wan were heading towards the cockpit, and Rex met them halfway, catching Obi-Wan by the arms. “Are you hurt?” he asked. 

“Bruised,” Obi-Wan said, hand sliding to the back of Rex’s neck. “I’ll live.” 

“Good,” Rex said, and kissed him. Obi-Wan sighed into it like it was the first time they had ever touched like this. 

“Oh for—really?” Solo demanded. “You’re doing this in front of us?” 

Obi-Wan drew back and said, “Is your back up for it?” 

“One way to find out,” Rex said, and dipped him. 

Obi-Wan laughed into the kiss, and Rex loved every stubborn inch of him. 

Luke herded the Solo and Chewie away when Rex pulled Obi-Wan upright, his back spasming in a way that meant that he’d pay for that later. 

“Are you really fine?” he asked. 

“Yes, I'm really fine,” Obi-Wan said, and kissed him again because, old or not, they were still there. 


	27. Rex/Obi-Wan, sick and injured/flirting under fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Rex/Obi-Wan and sik and injured/flirting under fire
> 
> Apparently all of you just want me to write flirting and instead you get your favorites bitching at each other. That's how flirting works, right?

“Well, isn’t this a role reversal,” Obi-Wan said, grit and mud and what was most likely blood smeared along his cheek and forehead from where he crouched low in the trench. 

“With all due respect, sir,” Rex said, which only made Obi-Wan smile because like Skywalker he learned Rex never meant it respectfully, “Cody already gave me shit for this and I don’t need it from you.” 

“That bad?” Obi-Wan asked, not without sympathy. 

“I’ve had worse,” Rex said, which was true. It wasn’t even a blaster shot but a hard hit by a heavy battle droid. His chestplate had absorbed the majority of the impact, but it still left him with a cracked collarbone. Kix had done his best, but there were men with far worse injuries and Rex wasn’t worth the attention. He would live, which was more than some got. 

“Perhaps I can help,” Obi-Wan said, reaching out to lay his palm against Rex’s chest. 

Rex caught his hand before he could make contact. “I’m fine.” 

“Now who’s being needlessly stubborn?” Obi-Wan said. 

There was a muffled laugh to his left, and Rex turned to the bastard dumb enough not to keep quiet. It was Nail, a kid who had only made it through one deployment and hadn’t learned to stay out of any arguments Rex had with Obi-Wan. 

“Something funny, private?” Rex said. 

“No, sir,” Nail said, the tilt to his bucket suggesting the kid had gone wide eyed behind it. 

“Where’s your sergeant?” he continued, aware of Obi-Wan’s amusement. “I’m sure he has something for you to do.” 

“Yes, sir,” Nail said, and scurried away, making sure to keep his head low. He wasn’t that dumb, at least. 

“Was that necessary?” Obi-Wan asked. “We are being indiscreet.” 

Rex belatedly realized he was still holding Obi-Wan’s hand, but he didn’t release it, instead turning so their palms pressed together. “Kid’s gotta learn some discretion if he wants to last here.” 

“We could make it easier on him,” Obi-Wan said, quieter now. 

“ _We?”_ Rex said. 

Obi-Wan pointedly looked at their joined hands, and Rex reluctantly let him go, conceding the point. They may be an open secret among Torrent and the 212th, but a secret nonetheless. Most of his men, a Fives or a Hardcase notwithstanding, had the good sense to feign ignorance. It wasn’t like they didn’t have the practice with Skywalker and Amidala. 

“You’re not usually so blatant,” Obi-Wan added diplomatically. “How bad is it really?” 

“Can’t raise my right arm,” Rex admitted. “And can’t put any weight on it either.” 

“You should be back at base camp.” when Rex went to protest, Obi-Wan held up his free hand to forestall it. “You won’t abandon your men, I know, but you can’t lead them like this.” 

The worst part was that Rex couldn’t argue. Soon the creeping barrage would begin, and Torrent would go over the top and try to break through the Seps’ line, and Rex was no good like this. Hell, he was a goddamn liability bound to get only himself killed if he was lucky. 

“We can’t afford you tiring yourself out to treat a broken bone,” Rex said. 

“This would require very little effort,” Obi-Wan said. 

“Not worth it.” 

“Incoming!” Jesse called, and everyone ducked as an ordnance dropped near their location, throwing up clods of dirt and stone. 

Obi-Wan used it as an excuse to press close enough that if Rex weren’t wearing his bucket he’d feel Obi-Wan’s breath along his cheek. Obi-Wan stayed there, crouched protectively over him, and said, “It’s worth it to me, Rex. Let me help.” 

Obi-Wan’s gaze was steady and sincere, and Rex gave in. “Make it quick, and don’t overdo it.” 

“When have I ever?” Obi-Wan said as if there was not a long historical record of him doing exactly that, and dipped his fingers under Rex’s chestplate. 

His pauldron had already been removed so Kix could get at his collarbone, which made it easier for Obi-Wan to work. He gingerly felt along the break, and Rex gritted his teeth against the pain. Broken bones were nearly worse than being shot. 

“This will hurt,” Obi-Wan said, apologetic. 

“Can’t be that— _motherfucker,”_ Rex swore as his bone shifted and knit back together. He was sweating by the time it was over, and he forced himself to breathe evenly as the pain faded. Gingerly, he lifted his right arm. It ached but moved smoothly enough, which was all he needed. “Thank you.” 

“You’re quite welcome,” Obi-Wan said, sitting back on his heels and looking pleased with himself. 

Before Rex could ask if this was going to make him even more insufferable than usual, his comm sounded, and Cody said, “Are you dead yet?” 

“Not yet,” Rex replied, switching to the private channel. 

“Good. We’re twenty minutes out from launch. Is the asshole with you?” 

Rex eyed Obi-Wan, who, judging by the rueful twist of his mouth, knew exactly what Cody just said. “He is. You need him back?” 

“Only if you’re done with him,” Cody said dryly. “We’re only in a middle of a major military action. I’d hate for that to interrupt your date.” 

“Point taken,” Rex said. 

“Is he jealous?” Obi-Wan said, the twist of his mouth going from rueful to wicked. “Because I did offer for him to join in, but he just turned and silently left the room.” 

“I heard that,” Cody said. “Tell him I said fuck off.” 

Rex rolled his eyes. “Tell him yourself. He’ll be at your position in five.” 

“He better,” Cody said, and clicked the channel off. 

“He’s going to kill you himself one day, if you keep this up,” Rex said. 

“He wouldn’t dare,” Obi-Wan said, dismissive, “because then he would have to deal with the council.” 

That was a fair point, and if that were to come to pass either Cody or the council wouldn’t make it out alive. 

“You better get moving,” Rex said. 

“In a minute.” Obi-Wan fitted his fingers under Rex’s helmet. 

Rex made a point of turning to look at the men, who were all suddenly were very involved in conversations with their squadmates or checking their weapons. Even Fives and Hardcase were giving them what privacy a trench in a warzone could provide. 

Obi-Wan lifted his bucket just enough to press a fairly chaste kiss to his mouth. They were both covered in grime and blood, but Rex didn’t care, catching Obi-Wan by the back of the neck and letting it linger for just a moment. 

“You got four minutes to make it back to Cody,” Rex said once Obi-Wan settled his helmet back into place. 

Obi-Wan nodded. “I’ll find you after.” 

“Go,” Rex said because there wasn’t much more room for sentimental goodbyes. Obi-Wan understood, and he made his way back to the command center. Rex watched him go, and then he straightened as much as the trench would allow, and said, “Look sharp, Torrent. We’re fifteen out from attack. No heroics. We do the mission and we come back. Understood?” 

“Understood,” the men answered, and Rex allowed the pride to unfurl under his breastbone. 

And then, Torrent steady around him and Obi-Wan’s kiss lingering on his mouth, Rex waited for the signal for the attack to begin. 


	28. Obi-Wan/Rex/Cody, scars/it's not you it's my enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Obi-Wan/Cody/Rex and it'snot you it's my enemies/scars (and a little sick/injured snuck in there as well)

Cody finished stitching up Rex so Rex in turn could work on the gash on Obi-Wan’s arm. The wound in Cody’s shoulder had already been seen to by Obi-Wan in the world’s bloodiest sewing circle. 

“You’re all set,” Cody said, tying off the last suture. He shook Rex affectionately by the back of the neck. “Your turn.” 

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said where he had set up shop at the motel room’s one sad excuse for a desk. Phone and laptop were open, and he alternated between the two, tapping away. 

Cody exchanged a look with Rex, who said, “You’re bleeding.” 

Obi-Wan glanced at the bandage on his arm and the slow spreading bloody spot, and said, “It’s clotting.” 

“Christ,” Rex muttered, and snagged Obi-Wan’s chair to drag him close. “Let me see.” 

Obi-Wan scowled. “I told you—” 

“We know,” Cody said, passing over their med kit. The last few days had steadily depleted it, and they would need to go to a chemist soon to restock before Bane caught their trail again. “You’re always fine.” 

“I _am_ fi—perfectly healthy,” Obi-Wan said, which was such a blatant lie that he and Rex could only stare at him for the sheer audacity of it. 

Rex, who had apparently decided to ignore Obi-Wan’s bullshit, said, “This is our last needle.” He used his teeth to rip open the sterilized package as Cody passed over the thread. 

“We can sterilize them ourselves if we need to,” Cody said. “We still got that bottle of whiskey.” 

“We’re not doing that.” Needle threaded, to Obi-Wan he said, “Hold still.” 

Obi-Wan winced as Rex bent to work. 

“I don’t see why not,” Cody said, just to see the annoyed twitch of Rex’s jaw. “It’s effective and it’s not like we haven’t done it before. I don’t remember you complaining at the time.” 

“Because you were half-deaf and concussed.” Rex’s stitches were neater than his, and Cody looked on in appreciation. 

“I wasn’t,” Cody said to Obi-Wan, who for once was not joining in the argument. “You all right?” 

“Yes.” Obi-Wan said glanced down to check Rex’s progress. “I’ve been thinking about our next move. Well, mine.” 

Cody settled back on the bed. Rex never faltered in his work. They both knew this was coming as Obi-Wan wasn’t close to being as unreadable as he thought he was, not once they got a handle on him. 

“And what’s that?” he asked. 

“I’m Bane’s primary target.” Obi-Wan at least had the decency to meet Cody’s gaze. “As he’s only interested in me, it would be safer for you if we went our separate ways. I’m leaving in the morning.” 

“No,” Rex said. 

Obi-Wan frowned, annoyed. “I’ve already made arrangements.” 

“Then unmake them.” 

“Unmake—this is not a debate. It’s been decided.” 

“You decided,” Rex said, and Cody leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankle. Obi-Wan hadn’t yet experienced the pleasure of arguing with a Rex who had dug his heels in, and he was going to enjoy this. “We didn’t. Hold still.” 

Obi-Wan had the good sense to keep from twitching when someone was sewing him up. “This is my business and it doesn’t concern you.” 

Rex waited until he tied off the stitches before leaning back in the chair. “Was your business. It’s ours now.” 

“Yours?” Obi-Wan said, looking to him, eyebrow raised. 

Cody shrugged. “I believe we made it pretty clear that we’re in this till the end.” 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Obi-Wan snapped. “I’m trying to keep you out of danger.” 

“I think I figured out his problem,” Rex said, turning to him. 

Cody stood and wandered back over, leaning against Rex’s side. “And what’s that?” 

“He’s a fucking idiot who doesn’t listen.” 

Obi-Wan glared, and Cody bit back a smile. He was almost as easy to rile as Rex. 

“Bit hypocritical of you,” Obi-Wan said. “You’re refusing to listen to me right now.” 

“We’re listening,” Cody said mildly just to see Obi-Wan raise his hackles. “We just disagree with all your shit.” 

“We’re not going anywhere,” Rex added. “You’re stuck with us.” 

Figured it was that bit of sincerity to momentarily strike Obi-Wan silent, although he rallied admirably a moment later to say, “I’m not sure I understand why you would you decide to be stuck with me, as it were.” 

Cody glanced to Rex, who nodded. “Because, asshole,” he said, leaning in close enough to touch the hairs curling at the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck, “we like you.” 

Before Obi-Wan could argue, Cody kissed him. He kept it light, not wanting to push. Obi-Wan held himself still, and Cody was about to pull away and offer an apology when Obi-Wan sighed and kissed him back. 

“Yeah,” Rex said, quiet, “there it is.” 

Cody kept the kiss soft and easy, letting it deepen by degrees, unhurried now. They were all knee deep in the shit, but this at least was something they could devote time and care to. 

Rex nudged him, and Cody drew back, smiling when Obi-Wan swayed after him before catching himself. 

“You run out of patience?” he asked as Rex gently shoved him aside. 

Rex didn’t bother answering because Obi-Wan was already reaching for him, mouth falling open at the first touch from Rex. Cody rested a hand against the back of Rex’s neck, brushing his thumb in slow sweeps under Rex’s ear, content to watch the way the two of them came so sweetly together. 

Rex’s teeth caught on Obi-Wan’s lower lip, and Obi-Wan made a small noise in the back of his throat. Cody smiled; they’d made a good decision. 

“All right,” Cody said when it became apparent they were not going to break it up any time soon. “We still have to figure out our next move and you have to finish seeing to his arm.” 

He gave Rex a shake, and Rex drew reluctantly drew back, biting at Obi-Wan’s mouth one last time as he did so. 

Obi-Wan blinked and said, voice gratifyingly rough, “I suppose I should accept the fact I’m stuck with you both.” 

“Glad we got that settled,” Cody said. 

Rex snorted and finished wrapping clean bandages over Obi-Wan’s stitches. “This is gonna scar.” 

“Well,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, mouth obscenely red, “that makes us a matched set.” 

“What do you know,” Cody said, sharing a fond look with Rex, “I guess it does.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all, folks.
> 
> Come check out my [tumblr](https://dharmaavocado.tumblr.com/) where I'm sure to have another ask meme prompt soon.


	29. Gen, circus au/magical accidents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was circus au and magical accidents. There is a hint of Cody/Rex/Obi-Wan to this, but it's more gen than anything.
> 
> Also, thanks to Norcumi for giving me the idea about the mirrors.

Obi-Wan knew better than to stand between two mirrors. That was what he was thinking when the circus came to town. It was one of the rules every child was taught: never stand between two mirrors and keep your name close.

The circus began to assemble itself in the empty lot that once housed outlet stores that had folded the year before. Obi-Wan made note of the caravan and the great tents going up, but he was already late for work and gave it no more thought until he passed it on his way home.

It looked like an actual circus, not like the modern iterations with their old rides and tired tents, the performers going through the motions as they waited for the end. This was a good and proper circus, the kind that probably only ever existed in the collective imagination.

The lights were on and the big tent shone like a star. No one was going in, and intrigued despite himself, Obi-Wan went to the ticket booth. It stood empty.

“We open tomorrow,” a passing worker with brown skin and black hair said. His cheekbones sat high and sharp on his face. “But you can take a look, if you want.”

“I was just curious,” he said.

The worker shrugged, and Obi-Wan turned back towards home. He should mention the circus to Anakin, who had always liked fairs and carnivals ever since he was a child. Anakin would need little coaxing to return. They could make a day of it.

Music began to play, faint and then louder, and without thinking Obi-Wan followed it onto the grounds. The main fairway was empty but for other workers seeing to the set up. They all had brown skin and black hair and high, sharp cheekbones. Perhaps it was family run. Most of the smaller operations were.

Obi-Wan wandered deeper. It smelled like how he always imagined a circus should smell, sweet and light, instead of what they actually smelled like, which was too many bodies packed into a too small space under hot lights.

“ _Shit_. Cody, we got another one.” Someone caught his shoulders, and Obi-Wan stared at another man with those high cheekbones, although his hair was blond instead of black. “Sir, can you hear me?”

“Of course I can,” Obi-Wan said, blinking in surprise when there were two of him.

They shared enough features to be brothers. No, Obi-Wan realized, identical twins. The only thing setting them apart was the scar curving around Cody’s eye and the blonde hair.

He glanced past them to where the other workers had gathered, looking on. They all wore the same face, a sea of identical men with him as the sole aberration.

“Hey,” Cody said, snapping his fingers in front of Obi-Wan’s eyes. “You need to focus.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and looked to the blonde man, whose hands were still on his shoulders. “I take it you’re the polite one,” he said dryly.

“Only compared to him,” the man said, smiling briefly before he seemed to catch himself. His hands fell away. “Name’s Rex.”

“Christ,” Cody said.

“I’m Ob—”

“ _No,”_ Rex said. “You gotta keep your name, especially here.”

“You gave me yours,” Obi-Wan said.

“Because it’s too late for us,” Cody said. “We were made here, and so here we remain.”

The music started playing again, and Obi-Wan thought there were words now, although he couldn’t make them out no matter how hard he listened.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“You have to go,” said Rex, and he was touching Obi-Wan again, trying to steer him back towards the entrance. “It always tries to grab more, to do to them what it did to our father.”

“I see,” Obi-Wan said. It really did smell so good, and the music, oh the music. “I understand.”

He knocked Rex’s hands away and ran. They pursued him. He could hear the drum of their feet, a counterpoint to the music. Cody and Rex were faster than their brothers, and their fingers brushed him as he skidded into the funhouse, his image reflected back at him.

“Don’t,” Cody said, desperate. “You don’t have to leave, but don’t go in there.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Because that’s where we came from,” Rex said. “Our father went in, and all of us came out, and we’ve been trapped here ever since.”

Every child knew not to stand between two mirrors where you were caught and reflected over and over, each image smaller and thinner than the last. That was how you were trapped. That was how you were lost.

Or, Obi-Wan thought as the music died away and he could only hear Cody and Rex’s pleading, how you were found.

As he stood there, caught and held, there were finally enough of him to grab every brother.

“My name,” he said, turning to face Cody and Rex and all the reflections made flesh, “is Obi-Wan.”

He slammed his fist into one mirror. It cracked. The fracture spread through every reflection, through every brother Obi-Wan was holding tight to, racing faster and faster until it shattered.

When it was over, they stood in the remains of the circus, amidst the flickering lights and the faded lights and the old and tired rides that creaked and groaned. It smelled like sweat and too many bodies packed together.

“Obi-Wan, right?” said Cody.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, and brushed bits of broken glass out of his hair. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Cody smirked and Rex said, quickly, “I think we owe you breakfast, at the very least.”

Obi-Wan looked over the brothers, who blinked as if they were waking from a long sleep, and said, “You owe me nothing, but breakfast would be nice.”

* * *

The circus disassembled packed itself away and left town as quickly as it arrived. Obi-Wan didn’t notice the departure. He sat across from Rex and Cody, waiting for their orders to be brought out.


	30. Baze/Chirrut, college au/facing one's worst fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was for Baze/Chirrut and facing one's worst fears. I can either write them as old married bickering or young babies being terrible at being in love. This is the latter.
> 
> Thanks again to Norcumi for suggesting friends with benefits, which brought this whole things together.

The first time Chirrut asked, he was naked and Baze had spent the last five minutes trying and failing to properly cite an article.

“Can you please put some clothes on?” he asked.

“It’s too hot,” Chirrut complained, idly scratching his stomach. “And I don’t see why I should since you’re only going to take them off me later.”

Baze resolutely double checked the formatting. “Don’t you have that paper for your history class?”

“Finished it yesterday before you came back from your evening lecture.” Chirrut leaned just enough on the word _came_ to make the back of Baze’s neck flush.

“What about your lab report?”

“Not due until next week,” Chirrut said, which meant he wouldn’t start it until the night before. Baze still wasn’t sure how Chirrut was passing any of his classes. “There’s a party tonight.”

“There’s always a party.” He rifled through the stack of articles he’d printed out.

“But this one is supposed to be good.” Chirrut suddenly sat up, and Baze absolutely did not admire the way Chirrut’s muscles shifted as he did so. “We should go.”

“I have to finish this.”

“But it’s not due for like two weeks.” Chirrut made a face. “You can take a night off.”

“I can’t.” Baze frowned at the last paragraph he wrote. It was more summary than argument, and he deleted it. “I have to get this done now because I have a philosophy exam next week I need to prepare for, and that’s on top of my chemistry study group.”

“You do too much,” Chirrut said, but he sounded nearly fond. “But fine. We’ll stay here and be responsible.”

Baze glanced at Chirrut, surprised. “You can go to the party.”

Chirut pulled on a pair of pants before reaching for his screen reader. “No, it’s more fun with you.”

“Oh,” Baze said. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” Chirrut said as if it that was a normal thing for Baze to say. Although, historically speaking, it was. He was never articulate around Chirrut, and since he wasn’t about to start now, Baze turned his attention back to his paper and promptly forgot what Chirrut had asked.

* * *

The second time, Chirrut had finished manhandling Baze into bed, which Baze wasn’t opposed to, but they didn’t even have sex. Chirrut just draped himself over Baze’s back and refused to move despite Baze arguing that he just had to finish the last problem set and then he could sleep.

“You said that three hours ago.” Against all the laws of physics, Chirrut somehow made himself heavier. “You need sleep.”

“You need to sleep,” Baze retorted, which didn’t even make sense and also probably proved Chirrut’s point.

Chirrut kissed his shoulder. “We should go to dinner later.”

“The dining hall will be closed.” Despite everything Baze felt his eyelids grow heavier.

“No I mean we go out-out.” Chirrut nuzzled into the back of his neck. “To a proper restaurant where we sit down and the silver isn’t plastic and the staff have to be nice to us.”

“Sounds expensive.”

Chirrut huffed. “It’s on me. So what do you say, want to go to dinner with me? Baze? Did you fall asleep?”

Baze mumbled that he was awake, but Chirrut was a warm, comfortable weight over him and he slid gently and completely into sleep.

* * *

By the third time Baze had to admit this was a pattern and not one of Chirrut’s passing fancies.

They had managed to reserve one of the library’s study rooms for the next hour, and while Baze had every intention of making good use of it, he instead found himself staring at where Chirrut was gnawing on his lower lip.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Chirrut actually jumped as if Baze had startled him. “What? No, everything’s fine.”

That just worried Baze more. “Did something happen in one of your classes?”

“No.” Chirrut drew in a breath and said, “Do you want to go see a movie? With me, I mean.”

Incredulity lifted his eyebrows, and for once Baze was happy Chirrut couldn’t see it as it would only offend him. “You want to go to a movie,” he repeated. “With me.”

“Yes,” Chirrut said.

“There won’t be any scene descriptions,” Baze said. None of their local cinemas were very accessible.

Chirrut shrugged, probably aiming for nonchalant but it came out stiff and awkward. “We can see an action movie. Those are easy to follow and you can fill me in on the set pieces.”

Now Baze gnawed on his lower lip. He felt wrong footed and hated it. They had been friends with benefits ever since Baze had gotten a little bit drunk and admitted that he didn’t know what he was doing with people, and even if he did he was sure he would be bad at.

“You would not,” Chirrut had said. “And I’ll prove it to you.”

And then they had fallen into their arrangement, and if sometimes Baze wistfully thought that it would be nice if it was a real relationship than that was nobody’s business but his own.

“Chirrut,” Baze said gently, “you hate movies.”

“Oh,” Chirrut said in an oddly small voice. “Yeah, of course I do. You’re right. I forgot I have a study session. I’ll see you later.”

Before Baze had a chance to process what was happening, Chirrut grabbed his bag and fled, closing the door softly behind him.

“But you forgot your screen reader,” Baze said dumbly to the empty room.

* * *

In the week that followed Baze barely saw him. Chirrut stayed out late and left earlier and the only sign he had been back to their room was the damp towels he left on the floor. Baze always picked them up and hung them at the end of Chirrut’s bed.

“I don’t understand what I did,” he confessed to Bodhi and Jyn that night, rolling the beer bottle between his hands. There was no alcohol allowed in the dorms, but Jyn seemed to take that as a challenge.

“It sounded like he asked you out,” Jyn said, doodling in the margins of her calculus book, “and you shot him down.”

Baze blinked. “But we aren’t dating. That’s the whole point of the arrangement.”

Jyn shrugged. “Maybe he wants to date.”

“But why?” he said, and even could hear the terror in his voice.

“Baze,” Bodhi said, gentle and kind as he always was, “have you considered that maybe he likes you?”

“But he can’t,” Baze said.

Bodhi looked confused. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll ruin it,” he answered, miserable. “And I like him too much to do that.”

“Oh, Baze,” Jyn sighed, tossing her calculus book away. “We’re getting you drunk.”

She and Bodhi did an admirable job of it, and as Baze stumbled back to his own dorm room he turned Bodhi’s words over in his head. Maybe Chirrut did like him, but that didn’t mean Baze had to do anything about it. Chirrut would get over it.

The thought of it soured his stomach, and Baze wanted to take it back, but he didn’t know how. Chirrut had always been better as this, at knowing what to do to make Baze stop thinking, at how to make things better. He didn’t want that to change.

He fumbled with his keys, jerking back when Chirrut opened the door. “Oh, you’re here.”

“Yes,” Chirrut said. “Have you been drinking?”

“Jyn wanted to get me drunk,” he said, leaning gratefully into the steadying hand Chirrut placed on his elbow. “Were you asking me out on dates?” The hand dropped away.

“Yes,” Chirrut said.

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

Chirrut made a noise in the back of his throat and suddenly Baze was being pushed onto his bed. “So you weren’t turning me down?”

“No,” Baze said. The terror was back, but he did his best to ignore it. “Promise you won’t let me ruin this.”

“She did get you drunk,” Chirrut said.

“I am only a little drunk” He fumbled for Chirrut’s hand, holding on tightly. “Ask me again.”

“You’re drunk,” Chirrut repeated, as if that meant anything.

Now Baze made the noise. “So ask me in the morning.”

“You’re going to be hungover,” Chirrut said, but Baze saw the way Chirrut was trying not to smile.

“Ask me anyway,” he said, and saw Chirrut grin, gums and all, before he passed out.

* * *

Baze was hungover, and he curled miserably in on himself even as Chirrut offered him a Gatorade and aspirin.

“Baze Malbus,” Chirrut said, lowering his voice when Baze winced, “do you want to go to breakfast with me as an official date?”

“Oh god,” Baze groaned and fumbled for the garbage can. When he was done gagging, he said, “Yes, I want to go to breakfast with you.”

“We’ll make it dinner,” Chirrut said, and for the first time in a week draped himself happily over Baze’s back, rubbing soothing fingers along his scalp.

“Oh,” Baze said, sliding back towards sleep, “I thought this would be more terrifying.”

“Me too,” Chirrut said, and pressed a kiss behind his ear.


	31. implied Cody/Rex/Obi-Wan, gods au/criminal au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was for gods au/criminal au with unexpected virgin a bonus. I did my best to work that in there.
> 
> More thanks to Norcumi for suggesting Hondo as a trickster figure when I was stumped on this one.

Hondo never cared for Tatooine. It was nothing but heat and sand, and what inhabitants actually lived there were either too poor to be worth stealing from or not worth the effort of abducting and holding for ransom. And despite the many hurtful assertions made about his person, he wasn’t crazy enough to go after the Hutts. Even the Empire adopted a policy of non-interference when it came to the Hutt family, and Hondo wasn’t going to take the risk, not when he was no longer the man he used to be. Or, to be more correct, not as the man he currently was.

But here he was anyway because some people were too stubborn to stay dead.

“If you missed me so much all you had to do was call, you know.” He considered the boundary currently holding him prisoner. Excellent work but then he expected nothing less from Kenobi. “I was only a system away. There was no need to go through so much trouble. I am terribly flattered, though.”

The man in question was perched on top of an outcropping of sandstone, legs folded neatly under him, hands flat on his knees, hood pushed down to better, Hondo assumed, glare at him.

“There was no guarantee you would come if asked,” Kenobi said.

Hondo gasped and placed his hand over where his heart should be. “I am hurt and offended. You’re my best friend!” He took a measure of joy at Kenobi’s grimace. “Do you think I would abandon you in your hour of need?”

“Yes,” Kenobi said simply. “This is how the world works now.”

Hondo was much older than he looked. He couldn’t say exactly how old as the passage of time held little meaning for him even when he’d been young and new, but he was still old enough to suffer a pang of conscious or two at such sorrow. When een that was lost to him, well, death would soon follow.

“It’s not how I work,” Hondo said, too truthful perhaps, but the truth was the only way to handle Kenobi.

“Isn’t it?” Kenobi considered him, and Hondo did not care to be seen so.

“You think you’ve figured it out, don’t you?” He sighed and shook his head, resisting the urge to _tsk_ Kenobi as if he were an errant child, which he was. Nearly everyone was a child compared to him. “I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

“You weren’t being careful. I think you wanted to be found out.”

Hondo shrugged. It didn’t matter if he was made or not. It was, on a scale grander than even Kenobi and his Force could comprehend, all the same to him.

“You have to admit it does make a good story,” he said, a deliberate test.

Kenobi frowned, hand twitching to where his lightsaber hung. An impressive toy, but a toy nonetheless.

“They say you stole the first story,” Kenobi finally said. “That all stories belong to you.”

“You have done your research!” Hondo exclaimed, genuinely impressed. “Yes, all stories are my stories, and all stories are the same story.” He sat down in the sand, mirroring Kenobi’s pose. “So what is it to be? You want to change this story? You want write a new one?” He swept a hand over the boundary Kenobi had erected. “I am at your mercy.”

Kenobi snorted. “You’re only in there because you choose to be.”

Hondo adopted a salacious grin just to see Kenobi flush with either outrage or embarrassment. Ah, Hondo had missed him. “You still haven’t answered me. What is it that you want?”

He waited for the inevitable disappointment. Kenobi was, unfortunately, only mortal, and so he wanted what all mortals wanted: love, immortality, sex, justice for some and injustice for others, good food, for his pitiful life to have mattered. Selfish things.

Not that Hondo disapproved of such things. He was all for selfishness. It was practically his trade, if he had one. If he’d expected better of Kenobi, well, that was on him.

“I want to hire you,” said Kenobi.

“Hire me?” Hondo asked, intrigued.

“You’re still a pirate, aren’t you?”

“But of course.” He gestured at himself, the beads and cloth wrappings in his hair, the gold around his neck and on his fingers, the ostentatious coat, which he was quite proud of. “Do you think this look happens by accident?”

“I really don’t,” Kenobi said dryly.

“This takes a lot of effort. And all this sand is doing a number on my boots. I should charge you extra for the damage.”

Kenobi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you want the job or not?”

“Depends on what it is,” Hondo said, as if he wasn’t going to agree, anyway. He did have an image to maintain.

“It’s a rather simple theft.”

“That sounds boring.” He leaned back on his hands. “What am I stealing?”

“Who,” Kenobi corrected, “not what.”

It’d been quite some time since Hondo abducted anyone of note. He rather missed playing capricious captor to a defiant captive. His last abductee had been Ahsoka, who was delightfully more bite than bark. What good times those were.

“And who am I stealing?” Hondo asked, although he knew the answer. Everyone but Kenobi himself knew his weakness. If Hondo hadn’t been in possession of such an upstanding and moral character he would have taken grievous advantage of it. Kenobi was so lucky that Hondo was, in fact, in possession of such an upstanding and moral character.

“The brothers,” Kenobi said, which was delightfully unexpected. “They were taken against their will and we’re bringing them home, every last one of them.”

For the first time Hondo took note of the colored vambraces on Kenobi’s arm: gold on his right and blue on his left.

Ah, so it was a love story. All stories were, at the very core of them, love stories.

“The tragic lover seeking vengeance, is it?” he said, and in the space between breaths was at Kenobi’s side. Kenobi, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “Or perhaps not a lover in practice. Have you never—oh, my friend, you’re missing out.”

The flush was out of embarrassment now, and Kenobi said, all prim and proper, “If you’re quite finished.”

Hondo settled back in the binding circle. Kenobi really did do good work and it would be a shame for it to go to waste. “So you want to bring the clones back, is it?” Kenobi inclined his head in agreement, and Hondo said, “And what about your brother?”

Unlike others in his line of work, Hondo never concerned himself with emotions, or at least not ones that weren’t deeply funny, but he could still taste the sorrow soaking from Kenobi. The man was practically pickling in it.

“Anakin made his choices,” Kenobi said. “The brothers never had a choice at all. It was taken from them.”

“It won’t be easy, you realize,” Hondo warned. “It’s not just the Empire we’re running up against. It is, ah, others like me, shall we say. Only they do not have my kind and generous nature.”

Kenobi snorted. That was fair.

“It won’t be cheap, you know,” he added, “even with the friends and family discount, and the years have left you far from prosperous.”

“True,” Kenobi said, “but you’re going to do it anyway.”

“I am?”

Kenobi, the Negotiator, smiled. “You are because it’s going to be a damn good story.”

And that was the real trap Kenobi had laid for him, not this pitiful boundary. Like he said, it really was excellent work.

Hondo stood, shaking the sand from the folds of his coat. “You drive a hard bargain, but you have a deal.” He glanced down at the boundary. “If you would be so kind as to get rid of this so we can get to work?”

Kenobi’s eyebrows rose. “It’s not actually holding you.”

He sighed. For such a clever man, Kenobi could be remarkably stupid. “There is a way to these things.”

“I suppose there is.” Kenobi stood and dusted the sand from his skin. He knelt and carefully swept away the bindings.

Hondo pressed a knife to Kenobi’s bared throat. “I can’t help but wonder how you’ve lived this long.”

Slowly, mindful of the sharp edge, Kenobi lifted his head to meet Hondo’s gaze. “I’ve lived this long by knowing my opponent. You won’t kill me, not when I’m this much for you to play with.” And then he spoke Hondo’s true name.

Clever man, indeed, to lay a second trap for Hondo to saunter right into. Well, Hondo could admit when he was beaten, and so he put the knife away and impatiently bid Kenobi to stand.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he proclaimed in his most obnoxious voice, which was quite obnoxious if he did say so himself, “I will steal back the brothers for you, including the men whose colors you wear, and in return you will give me your story.”

“All stories are your stories,” said Kenobi, who didn’t know the real truth he spoke.

And in the proper way of these things, they clasped forearms, the gold and blue of Kenobi’s arms shining brightly under the twin suns, which made it all the easier for Hondo to dig the story from Kenobi’s heart to place in his own. The pact was sealed.

“Now that’s settled,” Hondo said as Kenobi swayed on his feet, “we must be going.”

 _The Katooni_ neatly landed, blowing more sand onto them. Honestly, Hondo should have spaced the pilot at the last port and found a new one. Too late now. He’d have to make do.

“Yes,” Kenobi said, allowing himself to be led to the ship, “we have work to do.”

“You do not know how right you are, my friend,” Hondo said, and smiled as Kenobi walked up the ramp and was swallowed whole.


	32. Cody/Quinlan Vos, arranged marriage/erotic dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was for arranged marriage and erotic dreams, and let me tell you I had way to much fun with this for my favorite trash ship. Into the dumpster, everyone!

Quinlan woke to an empty bunk, which wasn’t a surprise, and a quiet base camp, which was. If the cease fire was still holding then maybe the peace talks had a chance of succeeding. That would put Obi-Wan in a good mood. It was probably the only thing outside of that colonel with the blond hair that could.

He groped for his clothes. He got stuck with the late patrol and stumbled in before dawn, too tired to do anything but strip off his outer layers and collapse into the small bunk where he was kneed at least twice in the kidneys by his loving husband. The only sign of the blanket stealing bastard was the helmet sitting on the makeshift desk next to a stack of pads and the lightsaber Quinlan had dropped on his to the bed.

In desperate need of a shower, he twisted his hair back and absently grabbed his lightsaber and immediately fell into the sense memory of fingertips dragging down the length of his spine, just dipping under the sheet where it pooled at the small of his back.

A shiver rose in the memory’s wake, and he nearly dropped his damned lightsaber before clipping it to his belt.

“You fucker,” he said, although it was nearly fond. He was the one who started this game, after all. He just didn’t think Cody would be so damned good at it.

“Beg your pardon, sir?” a brother said, hesitating at the tent flap.

“Wasn’t directed at you,” Quinlan said, eyeing the kid. He wore the 212th gold but his armor still had a fresh shine to it. It took him a minute to match the pattern to the name of the kid Cody had drafted into being his aide. “Junior, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Junior said, so clearly pleased Quinlan was half tempted to pat him on the head for some positive reinforcement.

“Can I do something for you?”

The kid jumped a little. “Oh, the general sent this for you, sir.” He held out a cup of the sweet tar the brothers called caf. “He said you might need this seeing as you got stuck with the night patrol.”

“You don’t have to call me sir.” They may be allies, but the Jedi were not soldiers, and there had been a debate on what, if any, rank they should hold that Quinlan hadn’t followed as he’d at the time with his impeding wedding.

“Sorry, si—” Junior cut himself off before awkwardly clearing his throat. “Your caf.”

Quinlan warily eyed the cup. It didn’t look particularly old, which meant it wouldn’t hold an impression well, but then Cody shouldn’t have been able to stick that sense memory to Quinlan’s own lightsaber. He did need the caf, though, and it was thoughtful of Cody to dispatch Junior with it. What the hell.

He took the cup. Nothing happened.

Emboldened, he took a drink, and as soon as his mouth touched the rim he felt the deliberate press of Cody’s thumb to his bottom lip, both taunt and promise.

He choked, and Junior, alarmed, slapped him on the back.

“I’m fine,” he said, through the coughing fit. “It’s nothing.”

“If you say so, sir,” Junior said.

“Where is Cody?” he asked, turning the cup and taking another cautious sip, encountering nothing but the sludge the brothers brewed.

“Command center. If the peace talks are a success, we’ll be shipping out again.” Junior glanced over to Cody’s helmet. “Want me to take him a message, sir?”

“No, I’ll go see him. Thank you, Junior.”

Junior didn’t quite snap to attention. “Let me know if you need anything, sir. The general put me at your disposal.”

Of course the bastard did.

“I’ll find you if I need you. Dismissed.”

The kid actually saluted before making himself scarce. Being surrounded by the brothers always made Quinlan feel old, a situation that wasn’t helped by his husband. Even though he belonged to the first generation of brothers, Cody was still years younger than him. Quinlan had been aware of the agree difference when he agreed to the marriage, but it’d still been a shock when his future husband took off his helmet to reveal how fucking young he was.

But then again Yoda had centuries on most of the Order, and he only occasionally treated them like children. Quinlan could, and was, adapting.

Although not adapting as fast as Cody.

He eyed Cody’s helmet. No brother was careless with any of his armor, and Cody was more conscientious than most. He would never forget to take it with him. It was a trap.

He could always put on some gloves, but that was good as admitting defeat, and Quinlan refused to do that. If he could survive returning to their shared quarters aboard the flagship and collapsing into bed, desperate for a single hour of uninterrupted sleep, only to slam face first into the memory of Cody on his back, right leg hanging off the bunk and left hand wrapped around his cock, groaning long and low as he came, then he damn well could handle whatever Cody had planned this time.

“All right, asshole,” he muttered, “what do you got?”

He grabbed the helmet and waited. Nothing happened.

Maybe Cody hadn’t imprinted on—that was his face. Quinlan was staring at his own face from when he first arrived planetside weeks ago. He thought Cody hadn’t even noticed him, deep in planning the final offensive to take the capital, but the damn helmet hid a number of sins, and one of those was Cody carefully tracking his progress though base camp. He looked so tired through Cody’s eyes.

Quinlan could spot the second he’d seen Cody, because he straightened and slapped on a grin, and had said, “Hey, General, looking good.”

“Sweetheart,” Cody had answered in that flat deadpan Quinlan loved. “I see you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet despite what I can only assume is your best efforts.”

“Not yet,” he’d agreed cheerfully, “although you would make a handsome widower.” Cody snorted, and Quinlan was forced to witness the frankly embarrassing way his own face had softened. “I’m glad to see you.”

“You would have seen me earlier if you arrived on time,” Cody said, and from this side of the interaction Quinlan was surprised by how fond Cody felt even if he refused to show it.

“Trust me, I’d have rather been here.” And then he had cupped the back of Cody’s neck and touched his forehead to Cody’s helmet in the way the brothers greeted each other.

Quinlan remembered this, moving slowly to give Cody ample warning if he wanted to break away. Cody hadn’t, instead choosing to lean in to meet Quinlan halfway. And in the memory, Cody had closed his eyes, something like relief easing the tension from his shoulders and jaw. He’d been glad to see Quinlan. Cody had missed him.

“We set up some showers.” Cody drew back. “You should go take advantage of them.”

“Are you saying I smell?” Quinlan had said, reluctantly letting his hand slide from the back of Cody’s neck.

“Yes.” Even the vocoder couldn’t mask Cody’s amusement. “I had initially thought perhaps the Jedi lacked hygienic standards, but it turns out it’s just you.”

Quinlan laughed. “I missed you, too.”

And then, like before, Cody had watched him leave, and Quinlan had never known.

“Huh,” Quinlan said once the memory had run its course.

Helmet tucked thoughtfully under his arm, he went to find his husband. The command center was in the northern quadrant of the camp, opposite from where the bunks were located. He took his time, pausing to speak to brothers he was friendly with and stopping in the mess tent to top up the caf and to spoon in an extra ration of sugar, which he only got away with because he was married to the general.

“Morning,” he said to Boil, who carried his own helmet under his arm.

Boil grunted and finished downing his comically large cup of caf before jamming his helmet on. “You off to see the boss?”

“I thought I might stop by.” He had overfilled the cup, and he took a quick sip to prevent it from spilling over his knuckles. It was too sweet. He had no idea how Cody could stand it.

“Good,” Boil said, falling into step with him. “I have requisitions to go over with him, and he’s always in a better mood after seeing you.”

“That hasn’t been my experience,” Quinlan said. He prided himself on putting Cody in a worse mood.

“Good mood for the boss,” Boil qualified, and steered them towards the command center. “We might even get that extra walker for Ghost Company.”

Without the helmet, it was obvious Cody had clocked their approach. There was no hiding how Cody watched him now, and if Quinlan was a lesser man, he would have preened under the attention.

Instead, he handed over the helmet and said, “Forget something, honey?”

Cody’s expression didn’t change, but Boil smothered a laugh.

“I figured it was the only way to actually get you out of bed before nightfall,” Cody said. “Turned out I was right.”

“I could have made Junior bring it to you,” Quinlan pointed out. Judging by Cody’s look, they both knew how full of shit Quinlan was. He held out the cup. “Here.” Cody’s eyebrow rose. “It’s caf. Well, it’s mostly sugar with a little caf.”

The eyebrow didn’t lower, but Cody accepted the cup. Their fingers brushed, and Quinlan was on his back, legs spread around Cody’s hips, gasping as Cody ground in close. “Yeah, sweetheart,” Cody said on a slow thrust, “just like that.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Quinlan snapped when he clawed his way back, uncomfortably flushed. “That’s not playing fair.”

“There a problem?” Cody asked, taking a sip. He made an appreciative sound, and Quinlan hated him. “You got the sugar right.”

“I know how you take it.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but he was acutely aware of Boil and every nearby brother unashamedly listening in.

“Didn’t think you were paying attention. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“No,” Quinlan said, wary. “Why?”

“I’m almost finished here. We can get something after.” Cody finished the caf and tossed the empty cup back before putting his helmet on.

Quinlan caught the cup on reflex. Cody, he reflected, never did anything without purpose. Even this game they were playing had an end goal, and given that it was Cody, Quinlan figured it had to be something other than sex.

When they first married, back when the alliance had been tentative and new, they barely saw each other, much less took meals together, the two of them shipping out to different systems in a desperate bid to hold the various lines. But as the alliance gained ground, liberating planets one at a time, he and Cody had drifted together, slow but sure.

They still didn’t spend that much time together. Maybe they were due for a change.

“I’d like that,” Quinlan said, and then to outweigh the sincerity, added, “I’ll be in the showers. You should come find me when you’re ready.”

He couldn’t prove it, but he put down good credits that under the helmet both of Cody’s eyebrows were arched high.

“You hair does need a wash.” To Boil, Cody said, “I’ll be ready for you in a minute. Make sure you have all the forms ready.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Boil said, and led Quinlan back out into the camp. “Told you that you put him in a good mood.”

“Let’s see if I can put him in a better one,” Quinlan said, and clapped a parting hand to Boil’s shoulder before turning towards the showers.

Cody may have a point about his hair needing a good wash. And maybe if Quinlan read the game right, he’d even get his right bastard of a husband to join him.


	33. implied cody/rex/obi-wan, time travel/24 hours to live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was time travel and 24 hours to live, so obviously I had to go down the Groundhog Day route. Cody/Rex/Obi-Wan is heavily implied.

Rex woke up. The novelty of it had worn off after the first dozen times, and now all that was left was bone deep weariness. The day was going to happen with or without him. Locking himself in his quarters hadn’t stopped it—although he attempted it days nine through twelve—and so he pushed aside the standard issue blanket and got up, gingerly settling his weight on his left leg in case it decided it was still half-melted away. Fucking thermal grenades.

He took advantage of the empty officer’s refresher, lingering under the sonics. Wasn’t the same as having some water, but it was better than nothing.

The attendant droid laid out fresh blacks for him, and he tapped knuckles to its dome in thanks. It beeped a query.

“Kit’s back in my quarters,” he answered. “I’ll finish dressing there.”

It rocked back in concern and issued another query.

“I’m fine. I don’t always wear my armor.”

That only alarmed the poor thing further, and Rex had to gently but firmly push the droid away when it insisted on taking his temperature. Its concern was sweet if unexpected.

“I’m not acting strangely,” he said, which wasn’t a lie, at least not anymore. Funny what he could adapt to. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow.” He carefully didn’t laugh at his own joke.

Mollified, the droid sent him off with a stern reminder that caf would not fulfill his caloric needs for the day and it had notified the mess staff to expect him within the hour.

“Thank you,” Rex said, grateful. They never really appreciated all the droids did for them. A damn shame it took him dying to come around.

He patted the droid once more and returned to his quarters where he put on his armor: boots, intact despite all the damn landmines he stepped on; greaves, looking as if they hadn’t been shredded by artillery strikes multiple times; tasset, which he’d rather not go out that away again; breastplate, no sign of the stray sniper shot he took the third and twenty-seventh time; and his pauldron, not yet blown to shit. His helmet, cleaved and shattered too many times for him to keep count, he set aside.

The data crystal was still in his personal locker, and he fished it out. He picked up a new one a couple months back when the previous crystal deteriorated from being rewritten so many times. It didn’t make sense to continue the recordings as death stopped sticking to him. Force of habit, he supposed, and if one of these loops ended up resolving itself, well, he wanted to leave them something.

He hit record.

“I don’t know what number loop this is,” he said. “I’ve stopped counting. It was a thermal grenade last time. It’s worse than a regular one. Those are fast if they hit you right. This one was…slower. I don’t recommend it. I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

He stopped the recording. That was too desperate. Too close to the truth. He didn’t want them remembering him like that.

He deleted the last sentence and began again

“I’ve tried almost everything. I went with the ground assault. I stayed with the air support. I coordinated from the flagship. I led the rear action. I covered Tano with Maul. Lightsaber to the chest is quick at least. Nothing works. I keep waking up here to do it all over again.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. He was so tired. “I thought it was me, that I was the reason this was happening. I just had to figure out what I was doing wrong and fix it and it would stop. But I don’t think it’s me. If this works, I should be arriving on Coruscant just before you’re notified of my desertion. Try to delay my court-martial until after I make this right.”

This would be easier if he was wearing his helmet, but he was still the same man who earned his jaig eyes, death didn’t change that, and he wouldn’t hide from what was coming.

He rolled his shoulders back and tipped his chin up, and said, “If I’m right then there is a good chance I will die and I won’t be coming back. I’ll march on ahead, but not so far that you won’t be able to find me when it’s your time. But don’t rush. I can wait.”

He ended the recording and encrypted it. Any halfway competent slicer could crack it in less than an hour, but the standard encryption marked it as private, and his brothers would ensure it was delivered.

His timing was good, and he keyed open to his door right before Tano could knock. She backed up a step, startled.

Her brow furrowed as she took him in. “You all right, Rex?”

“Fine, sir,” he said, helmet tucked under one arm. She didn’t believe him, but by now he knew how to deflect her attention. “I do have a favor to ask.”

Her brow unfurrowed. “What is it?”

He held out the data crystal. “If I’m killed in action then make sure Cody and General Kenobi receive this.”

Tano carefully took the data crystal. She understood what it meant. She probably had messages of her own prepared, just in case. Most soldiers did. “I will.”

“Thank you, sir.” He hesitated, but this was Tano, who he’d watched grow from a shiny who shot her mouth off to hide how scared she was to a woman who he had fought and died with, and now he was going to leave her. “You know there is no one I would rather have at my back than you.”

“I can think of at least two others,” she said, smiling even as she tucked the data crystal safely away. “It’s the same for me. There’s no one else I’d rather have with me on this.”

“Not even Skywalker?”

She smiled and rocked up on her toes, touching her forehead to his the way brothers did. “Not even Anakin.”

He closed his eyes, and said, “Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m not hungry.” She never was before a battle. “But I heard the mess droids are on the lookout for you.”

“Apparently caf is not a meal replacement.” He put his helmet on. “Care to join me for a last meal?”

“There’s gonna be a lot more,” she said firmly.

He thought of the long loops ahead of him if this didn’t work. “Yes,” he said, following her, “there will be.”


	34. Baze/Chirrut, zoo au/stranded due to inclement weather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was for zoo au/stranded due to inclement weather because and I quote this was the funniest combination. To be fair, it is very funny, but also challenge accepted.

The engine was still and Baze was gone. Chirrut sighed and gave in to the inevitable, rolling from the bed and knotting his tunic into place. His staff in one hand and, after a moment of consideration, the blankets from the bed folded over his arm, he went to find Bodhi.

The freighter was large—it had to be, to contain multitudes—but Chirrut had learned it well on the two previous expeditions. It was old and dear territory by now, this last bit of Jedha, and in short order he let himself into the cockpit where Bodhi sat alone in the pilot’s seat.

“We’re still stopped,” Chirrut said.

“It’s this geomagnetic storm,” Bodhi said, more exasperated than vexed. It was a far cry from the anxious pilot who had come to them those many years ago. “It’s a danger to our hyperdrive if we activate it. With Jedha’s atmospheric degradation, there’s no buffer. They’re getting worse.”

Without Jedha, the sector would be uninhabitable, and Chirrut let the old grief sweep over and through him.

“Do we know how much longer it’s going to last?” He shook out a blanket and draped it over Bodhi’s shoulders.

“Oh, thank you,” Bodhi said. “Another day at the latest, but it should be over in another ten hours.”

Ten more hours of being stranded. Chirrut swallowed a sigh. There was no use of complaining about what could not be changed. The abbot had spent most of Chirrut’s childhood and adolescent trying to instill that bit of wisdom in him to little success, but here he was, older than she had been, when the lesson finally took.

Chirrut leaned against Bodhi’s chair. “What does it look like?”

Bodhi shifted, uncomfortable. “It looks the same.”

“Tell me.”

“What does it matter?” Bodhi asked after a moment.

Chirrut considered the question carefully, as Bodhi always warranted such care. “It’s our home. I had never left it until the Empire fired upon the city. I want to remember it as it was then and as it is now.”

Bodhi sighed, and said, “The damage has spread further into the southern hemisphere. It’s, um, it’s cracking where the city once was. That section will probably break away entirely in the coming decade. It looks…bad.”

“You mean it looks dead,” Chirrut said, plucking the truth from Bodhi’s hesitation.

“Yes,” Bodhi said, quiet. He reached up and placed his hand over Chirrut’s. “When we’re gone, the New Republic will suspend any further travel through this sector.”

Chirrut tried to picture Jedha as she was now, cracked and broken. When the city was first lost, the surviving population had fled to the southern hemisphere to escape the damage, but the destruction had followed them, Jedha dying by slow degrees, until nothing would remain. The great migration had begun then, the freighters carrying people and fauna and flora alike to a new home in a neighboring system.

This trip was the last, scooping up what remaining fauna they could, and when they left then Jedha would truly be gone. Her people would endure, but she herself would be laid to rest.

“We’re the last to see her. Thank you, Bodhi.” Chirrut squeezed his shoulder before slipping his hand free. “Do where you know where Baze is? He was gone when I woke up.”

Bodhi snorted. “Where do you think?”

“Ah, of course. That was a foolish question. Let us know when it’s time.”

“Will do. Oh.” There was the sound of shifting fabric. “Don’t forget your blanket.”

“That one is for you. You never get enough sleep when we do these runs.”

“What we’re doing, it’s important. There’s a lot riding on this.”

“And there is no other pilot I trust more to deliver us safely.” He leaned down to press a light kiss to the crown of Bodhi’s head.

“Um, thank you,” Bodhi said, and Chirrut could nearly feel the heat of Bodhi’s flush. An Alliance pilot awarded more medals than Chirrut could count, and Bodhi was still flustered by a simple compliment. Change was inevitable, as the abbot said, but Chirrut still hoped Bodhi never would.

“You’re welcome. I’m off to find my husband, if you need us.”

“Tell him I said hi,” Bodhi said.

Chirrut nodded and went back into _The Ark’s_ halls. It was a long walk to get down to the retrofitted hold, and Chirrut knew he was close when the smell changed. Even the industrial air scrubbers were not up to the task of filtering out the overwhelming aroma of stressed animals. Chirrut followed his nose past the pens containing the vulpines and felines, past the disgruntled raptors and the great vultures who had yet to perform their sacred duty of burials, until he came to the bantha pen.

Banthas were not native to Jedha. They had been brought there by the very first colonists, but they were well adapted to Jedha’s long, fierce winters and her mild summers, slowly changing and evolving until they were hardly the same as what they once been. The name, however, remained.

“I know you’re in here,” he said, keeping his voice pitched low so as not to startle the herd, “but I would appreciate some directions.”

“To your left,” Baze answered, “against the far wall. Watch your step. The Honorable Lobsang is between us.”

The Honorable Lobsang was the undisputed matriarch of this particular herd and an ornery old woman who hated almost everyone but Chirrut in particular. They spent the last two expeditions trying to coax her onto _The Ark,_ and Chirrut suspected the only reason they succeeded this last time was because the herd had unexpected pregnancies, and the Honorable Lobsang refused to be parted from the calves.

Chirrut’s staff gently bumped against the Honorable Lobsang’s foot, and the great weight of her head swung towards him. He held up his hands. “Peace, grandmother. I’m just here to see my husband.”

She grumbled, shifting her weight, and for a moment Chirrut wondered if she would charge him. It wouldn’t be the first time, but there was very little room for him to dodge out of her way. And despite her size and age, she was deceptively fast and clever. He still bore the bruises from their last meeting.

“He’s a fool but you know he means no harm,” Baze added.

The Honorable Lobsang snorted but subsided. Chirrut carefully slid past her until he finally came to Baze, who sat with his back to the wall with, according to his echo box, a calf draped across his lap.

“Which one is that?” Chirrut asked.

“Little Tema,” Baze said, which explained the Honorable Lobsang’s presence. Tema was the runt of her litter and rejected by her mother, and not even the Honorable Lobsang’s displeasure could convince the mother to let her nurse, not when the herd had been under great stress from a rapidly diminishing food supply and the mothers weren’t producing nearly enough milk to keep the calves fed.

Chirrut sat next to Baze. “How is she?”

“She’s gaining weight, but I’m not sure she will ever recover all of it.”

“It will be better when we reach the colony.” He shook out the blanket, wrapping half around his shoulders before offering the other half to Baze.

Baze accepted it without argument. “The colony has its own problems.”

“True,” Chirrut agreed, thinking of the faulty irrigation system and the small crop yield, the great weight of trying to rebuild what they lost. “But she will have more of a chance there than back on Jedha.”

It was silent but for the soft sounds of Baze combing out the tangles from Tema’s fur. The Honorable Lobsang hovered overhead, the warm gust of her breath adding a delightful new element to the smell currently lodged in Chirrut’s nasal cavities.

“I feel like we’re abandoning it,” Baze finally said.

Ah, there it was. Baze was like the kyber baths, still and deep and quiet, and all Chirrut could do, had ever done, was wait for him to surface.

“Perhaps we are,” Chirrut said, carefully shaping the words in his mouth, “but if we are then it is like abandoning the dead to their burials.”

“There’s no vulture large enough to consume Jedha,” Baze said, a poor attempt at humor but Chirrut summoned a laugh anyway.

“If there was we would have set it on the Empire.”

Now Baze laughed, a short and sad noise. “I don’t want this to be the last time we ever walk on her.”

“Neither do I.” He searched through Tema’s fur until he found Baze’s hand. “But Jedha survives in all of her people, you and me and Bodhi, and even in the Honorable Lobsang.” The Honorable Lobsang chose that moment to gently nose at where their hands were still threaded in Tema’s furry hide. “Ah, even she agrees with me.”

“I believe she does not trust you with Tema,” Baze said dryly, and sure enough the Honorable Lobsang was insistently lipping at Chirrut’s hand until he gave in and withdrew it.

“I’m still right.” He wiped his hand along Baze’s shoulder.

“For once,” Baze agreed. “Jedha will live through us.”

“But mostly through the Honorable Lobsang,” he said as she delicately took his sash in her mouth and started tugging.

“He’s staying,” Baze told her, tone brooking no argument. She grumbled but obediently backed off. Chirrut stifled the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her; truly the abbot would have been proud of his growth. “When will the storm end?”

“Bodhi said ten hours.” Chirrut poked Baze in the side until he obligingly raised his arm, letting Chirrut slide in close and rest his head on Baze’s shoulder. “He’ll let us know when it’s time.”

Baze nodded. He would want to say his goodbye. Chirrut had made already made his peace, but Baze had always felt everything more completely than him. Perhaps that was why it had been him who had triumphed over the many other suitors Baze had; Chirrut was the rock to which Baze anchored himself.

A fanciful thought. Chirrut most likely won because he was, after all, exceedingly handsome and terribly witty. Baze appreciated both, even if he would never admit it.

“Are we going to spend the entire ten hours down here?” Chirrut asked.

“The herd is nervous and little Tema only takes a bottle from me,” Baze said, and Chirrut suspected Baze was taking a petty delight in that.

Chirrut rolled his useless eyes. “Truly I am blessed with such a humble husband who would never think to brag of his abilities.”

“I do believe that’s my line,” Baze said.

“Then we’re both blessed,” he said, and the Honorable Lobsang, who carried Jedha within her, consecrated them with her warm, pungent breath.


	35. Rex/Obi-Wan, ghost au/first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was ghost au and first time. This was inspired by [this post](https://dharmaavocado.tumblr.com/post/635336777271492608/demon-you-have-summoned-me-mortal-what-deal-do).

It smelled like snow. The storm wasn’t scheduled to hit until that night, but the clouds hung low and heavy, and Rex could feel it in his knee. His bag was weighed down by the final exams and term papers, and he shifted the strap higher on his shoulder and climbed the last flight of stairs to the flat. The door was unlocked. Again.

He let himself in where it was warm and smelled not of brimstone but something sharp and smoky. Rex sighed. “Hey, Obi-Wan.”

“Hello, Rex,” Obi-Wan said.

Rex hung his keys on the hook where Anakin’s were pointedly not, and set his bag aside so he could unlace his boots, which went into the closet along with his coat because he at least was raised with manners.

He hauled his bag to the main room. “Where’s the kid?”

Obi-Wan was, as usual, ensconced in the high back chair set inside the summoning circle, tea and saucer in one hand and Artoo skirting the edges of the circle.

“Still packing.” Obi-Wan took a sip and made a face. On the low table next to him he picked up a small pair of silver tongs and added another sugar cube to his tea.

Rex had no idea where Obi-Wan got the sugar or the tea for that matter. Neither he nor Anakin drank it, and even if they did, the tea was corporeal and Obi-Wan was not. Or at least he wasn’t outside of the circle, and he couldn’t leave it without significant alterations to the summoning.

“He was supposed to leave twenty minutes ago,” Rex said.

“I’m well aware,” Obi-Wan said dryly.

“Hey, kid!” he shouted down the narrow hall that led to the bedrooms. “You’re going to miss your flight.” He glanced out the window. “And if you do you’re not getting another one out before the storm hits.”

There was a series of painful sounding thumps as Anakin appeared, dragging a large suitcase behind him.

“I’m going as soon as I can find my keys.” Anakin patted his pockets and, for a reason Rex didn’t want to know, glanced down his shirt. “Have you seen them?”

“They’re not on the hook,” he said pointedly, “so no.”

Anakin snapped his fingers and darted for the kitchen. “Refrigerator!”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. “Do we want to know why they would be there?”

“No,” Rex said, and grabbed the handle of the suitcase and towed it to the door. It was extremely heavy; he was pretty sure Anakin’s noodle arms wouldn’t be able to handle the weight. Not his problem. “You left the door unlocked again.”

“Sorry,” Anakin said, head in the fridge.

“You’re going to be really sorry when we’ve been robbed.”

“Like Obi-Wan would let that happen. Gotcha!” Anakin emerged with his keys in hand and made for the closet to get his coat and, when Rex cleared his throat, his hat and scarf.

“About that,” Rex said. “I thought we agreed to cut down on summoning him.”

“I didn’t this time.” Anakin looped the scarf around his neck.

“We’ve also talked about Artoo accidentally summoning him.”

“Hey!” Anakin protested, jabbing a finger at him. “Artoo has never done anything wrong in his life.”

“That is categorically untrue.”

“And this time it wasn’t him. It was your hellion.”

“Ah.” Rex glanced back towards Obi-Wan and saw that R4 had joined him, resting next to his foot and looking as smug as was possible for a roomba. “We maybe shouldn’t have done so many modifications to them.”

Anakin had installed so much new hardware and software to Artoo that Rex was pretty sure the roomba had gained a measure of sentience. Rex was just as guilty with R4, although he preferred charms to programming. The result was the same: they had two roombas that, if not for the fact they apparently hated each other, would probably throw a revolution one day.

“Did you have to tape a knife to her?” Anakin asked.

Rex shrugged. “It makes her happy.”

“That’s terrifying.” Anakin went back to the main room. “I’m going now.”

“Do you have everything?” Obi-Wan asked, rising from his chair. “Toothbrush? Toothpaste? Gifts? Enough underwear to last the week?”

“Oh my god,” Anakin groaned. “Yes, I have everything. Will you be okay while I’m gone?”

“I do have other responsibilities when I’m not here,” Obi-Wan said dryly.

That was news to Rex, but then he had a strict policy of not prying into Anakin and Obi-Wan’s business.

“Okay.” Anakin nodded to himself. “Okay.”

“Ani.” Obi-Wan moved to the edge of the summoning circle. “You’re going to be fine. Padmé loves you and her family will, too.”

“But what if they don’t?” Anakin asked, something small and scared in his voice.

“They will,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “How could they not?”

Anakin smiled and moved closer, not crossing the boundary but close enough to touch. “Thank you.”

“But it’s perhaps best not to mention me. You want to make a good impression, after all.”

Anakin made a face. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan said. “Rex will keep me company.”

“Sure,” Rex agreed. “We’ll watch terrible movies and I’ll make food he can’t eat.”

“We have a plan already.” Obi-Wan smiled. “Rex was right—you need to go before you miss your flight.”

“Right,” Anakin said. “I’ll see you in a week.”

“If we’re dug out by then,” Rex said. The storm was going to bury the entire city, but he had stocked up on food and had nowhere to go. “Let us know when you land.”

Anakin waved and grabbed his suitcase, only tripping once as he wrangled it out the door. Rex waited until the distant thumps of Anakin going down the stairs faded before saying, “It’s going to be a disaster.”

“Absolutely, but Padmé does love him, so it will probably turn out all right in the end.” Obi-Wan settled back into the chair. “What about you? Not heading home for the holidays?”

He shook his head. “Not worth the cost of the tickets. I’ll go at the end of next term. Spend the break.”

“That sounds nice,” Obi-Wan said, nearly wistful. “I do miss traveling.”

Even after a year sharing a flat with Anakin, and by extension Obi-Wan, he was no closer to figuring out what Obi-Wan was. He was Anakin’s brother, or had been when he was alive, but now, well, Rex could only guess. Obi-Wan was more than a spirit but less than even a small god or minor demon. His mother would probably know, but Rex was very carefully not telling her in case she decided a banishment was in order. He liked Obi-Wan. He didn’t want to see him go.

“It’s not like you can only be summoned here,” he said.

“I suppose not.” Obi-Wan smiled again. “A thought for another time, I think.” R4 bumped against his ankle, and Obi-Wan said, “Just out of curiosity, why did you tape a knife to her?”

“I didn’t,” Rex said, and laughed as Obi-Wan turned an alarmed look on R4, who kicked up the rev of her motor at the attention.

“That’s concerning,” Obi-Wan said, raising his voice to carry as Rex went to the kitchen. “Where did she get it?”

Too tired to cook anything, he went digging for the leftover Chinese, assuming Anakin didn’t get to it. The kid ate like he was constantly on the verge of starvation.

“I’ve learned it’s best not to ask.” He pulled the plate from the microwave and grabbed a beer before heading to where the stack of exams and papers were waiting for him. With Anakin gone, Rex got the low table in front of the couch to himself, and he spread everything out.

“Grading?” Obi-Wan asked.

Rex nodded, a chopstick hanging from the corner of his mouth as he sorted his intro class from the advanced seminar where the overachieving shits couldn’t stick to the page limit. “We have to submit the grades by Monday. Me and the other TAs usually have a big grading party where we order food and knock it out in one go.”

“I take it the storm disrupted your plans?”

“Yeah, none of us want to get snowed in on campus again.”

He expected follow up questions about what they did—they scavenged up some blankets and broke into the moonshine still the chem PhD candidates thought they were hiding and spent the night in the student center—but instead Obi-Wan just looked wistful again, like this was something he missed.

“You were in university, right?” Rex asked.

Obi-Wan nodded. “I was like you, a perpetual student.”

That was a bit unfair, but not exactly wrong. Rex would complete his program at some point because if he didn’t he was fairly sure his advisor would murder him.

“Want to help me grade?” he asked.

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows climbed upwards. “Are you that desperate?”

“Of course I am.” He grabbed the answer key for the multiple choice section and dug out the colored chalk from the old steamer trunk that once belonged to his great grandmother. He modified the summoning circle so Obi-Wan would be able to interact with any small objects passed through. “I know you remember what it was like.”

Obi-Wan smiled then. “Yes, it was quite awful. All right, give me half.”

Rex divided the intro exams into two stacks and passed one over to Obi-Wan. “Go easy on the essay section. They’re first years.”

“They have to learn sometime,” Obi-Wan said, and pulled out an alarmingly green pen.

“Be nice,” he insisted.

They worked in a companionable silence that was only broken when they chose to read some of the more inane answers to each other, although Obi-Wan did express approval for a handful of students he thought had potential. They were all the ones Rex had already identified.

After a couple of hours, Obi-Wan said, “That couch can’t be doing your back any favors. This will be more comfortable.”

A chair identical to the one Obi-Wan was in had taken up residence in the circle as if it had always been there. It did look comfortable and his back was aching like a son of a bitch. There was even a matching ottoman.

Rex picked up the chalk. “You promise to abide by the accord and visit no harm upon me while I’m your guest?”

“You know I wouldn’t,” Obi-Wan said.

“I know,” he said, “but I need your answer.”

“I will abide by the accord and visit no harm upon you while you are my guest,” Obi-Wan said, a tightness around his eyes suggesting he was just as unhappy with the formalities. “And in return do you promise the same?”

“I do,” Rex said, and altered the summoning circle and stepped through. The chair was as comfortable as it looked. He kicked up his feet. “Thanks.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Obi-Wan said. “And you get this one. There’s too many errors in this for me to be nice.”

Rex accepted it without complaint. Their fingers brushed. It was not the first time he ever touched Obi-Wan, but it remained just as surprising. R4, pleased that they were in the same place for once, settled between the chairs with a smug air. It’d been awhile since he saw Artoo, and he could only hope he was still in one piece.

They went back to work, and Obi-Wan volunteered to take the rest of the intro exams, which freed Rex to start working on the seminar papers. Christ, these kids really needed to learn to make their arguments within the set page limit. He yawned.

“Would you like some coffee?” Obi-Wan offered.

He resisted the urge to ask where Obi-Wan would get it, and said, “No, thanks. I don’t want to be up all night.”

“Just most of it,” Obi-Wan said, and made another mark with his green pen.

Rex yawned again and went back to the latest paper only to blink awake to Obi-Wan gently shaking him. The comfortable chair had morphed into a comfortable couch. Obi-Wan had even covered him with a blanket. R4 had tucked herself just under the couch and was rumbling softly in her standby mode.

“Was I asleep?” Rex said, scrubbing at his face.

“You were,” Obi-Wan said, still bent over him.

“What time is it?” he asked, glancing towards the clock but gave up on reading it. “You should have woken me up sooner. I have those papers to finish.”

“Oh, I did those,” Obi-Wan said, moving back as Rex sat up. “They were much more enjoyable than the exams. You should have led with those. I won’t be offended if you check the grades I assigned, although you should know I was exceedingly fair.” Rex stared at him for so long, Obi-Wan said, “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, fine,” Rex said, and deliberately didn’t think as he fisted his hand in the front of Obi-Wan’s shirt and pulled him close enough to kiss.

Obi-Wan sucked in a shocked breath, and Rex had just enough time to start to panic before Obi-Wan cupped his face and opened his mouth, and the kiss went from tentative to filthy in a shockingly short amount of time.

Rex tugged, and Obi-Wan, gratifyingly quick on the uptake, clambered into his lap. The couch creaked and below them R4 beeped her disapproval before making herself scarce.

“Wait,” Obi-Wan said, drawing back, mouth gone red. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” Rex said, and placed a sucking kiss to the long line of Obi-Wan’s neck. “I like it, though.”

“Well, as long as that’s settled,” Obi-Wan said, but the sardonic edge of his voice was ruined when his breath hitched as Rex slid a hand under his shirt.

“We’ll have plenty of time to regret this later,” he said, and Obi-Wan must have agreed because he was undoing Rex’s jeans and pulling out his cock.

Later, when they had caught their breaths and made themselves comfortable on the couch that could more accurately be called a bed, Obi-Wan said, “It’s snowing.”

Rex glanced out the window where the first fat flakes had started falling. “Yeah,” he said, running his hand down Obi-Wan’s spine, “it is.”


	36. Rex/Cody/Obi-Wan, pirate au/bodyswap au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was for pirate au and bodyswap au, with Cody and Obi-Wan doing the swapping. I did my best.

Rex was asleep for all of an hour before his comm went off, and he slapped at it without opening his eyes. “I just came off a triple shift. Someone better actively be on fire.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Boil. “It’s the boss.”

Rex groaned and rolled over. “Please tell me he’s the one on fire.”

“Not exactly. He’s back from chasing Kenobi.”

Rex cracked en eye open. “Let me guess. Kenobi’s not with him.”

Boil snorted. “The day he actually manages to catch Kenobi is the day Kenobi wants to be caught.”

And didn’t Rex know it. Of all the pirates currently operating in the Outer Rim, Kenobi tended towards the more benign end of the scale. He went after the Hutts and their slaver operations, and his moral code, as malleable as it was, meant he only harassed the powerful. Rex, and Cody although he would deny it, had to admire the bastard for being such a constant pain in the ass to the Hutts and the Trade Federation.

Cody just hated there was someone else as competent and infuriating as him out there. The fact that so far all their attempts to apprehend Kenobi had ended in dismal failures also didn’t help. It was deeply embarrassing if only for the fact that Rex was pretty sure Kenobi viewed it as either entertainment or courtship.

“So what is it this time?” Rex asked. “Is he sulking because Kenobi slipped away without saying goodbye again?”

“It’s not that, sir.” Boil shifted, looking uncomfortable. “He’s acting off.”

“Off how?”

Boil frowned. “He’s not his usual self, sir. Can’t explain it, but something’s wrong.”

Rex sighed and reluctantly got out of bed. Boil was one of the few brothers who knew Cody even better than him, and Rex had learned the hard way never to discount Boil’s gut.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“His quarters, sir. He asked not to be disturbed and put the privacy locks on.”

Like that had ever stopped Rex before. He reached for his discarded blacks, not bothering with his armor. “I’ll check on him, but afterwards I am going to sleep for the next thirty hours and the only circumstance you can disturb me is—”

“If someone’s on fire,” Boil said dryly. “Understood. Thank you, sir.”

“You owe me one,” Rex said, and cut the connection.

Cody’s quarters were a hall over from his, close enough that Rex didn’t even bother pulling on his boots. The few brothers he passed were jumpy, unease giving away to relief when they realized where he was headed. What in the hell had Cody done now?

Yawning, he rapped his knuckles against Cody’s door. There was no answer, and so Rex keyed in the entry code to no avail; the privacy locks were on, as Boil said.

“I know you’re in there,” Rex called. “Stop sulking and let me in.”

“I’m busy,” Cody said through the closed door.

Rex rolled his eyes and entered the override code. The door opened onto a scene that looked like the aftermath of an artillery strike.

“Cody, what the fuck?” Rex said, gingerly stepped over a pile of discarded blaster parts.

“I know I activated the locks,” Cody said, not looking up from where he was digging through his footlocker. He had stripped off his bucket and the top half of his armor, the pieces scattered across the bed and along the floor.

That wasn’t like him. Cody was a meticulous bastard who cleaned and carefully stacked his armor on a custom rack. Boil had a point about something being off.

“Like that’s every stopped me,” Rex said. “What are you looking for?”

Cody pulled out a jammer and made a noise in the back of his throat. “This is illegal on Coruscant.”

“It’s why you got it, to complete your incredibly illegal set.”

“I didn’t realize I had so many.” Cody added the jammer to the pile on his left.

“What are you looking for?”

Cody finally glanced over, eyebrows climbing as he did so. “That’s a new look for you. Very stripped down.”

“Fuck off,” Rex said. “I got dragged out of bed because you had to go and worry Boil.”

Cody snorted, but a half second too late, as if he hadn’t fully clocked what Rex said. “His unfortunate mothering tendencies. He’s going to make Wooley jealous if he keeps doting on me.”

“Waxer,” Rex corrected, worried now. “He’s with Waxer. Has been for years.”

“Right,” Cody said, shaking his head. “What did I say?”

“You all right?” Rex edged closer as Cody settled back on his heels. There was a strange stiffness to his movements, as if he was trying to hide an injury. “What happened with Kenobi? We expected you back two days ago.”

“The bastard was hiding out in an asteroid field. Almost got him before he slipped away.”

“He leave you another love note?” Rex asked, watching for Cody’s reaction.

There, the corner of Cody’s mouth ticked up before his expression shifted into a scowl. “That joke was never funny.”

“Oh, I don’t know, sir,” he said, pausing to see if Cody would protest the use of the honorific; he didn’t. “He’s clearly infatuated with you, although fuck if I know why. It can’t be your winning personality.”

Cody made a rude gesture that was the Tusken equivalent of casting doubt on one’s parentage. “Get out of here. Tell Boil I’m just tired. I haven’t gotten enough sleep in the past couple of days. I’ll be fine once I catch an hour or two.”

“I’ll let him know,” Rex said, turning away to hide the message he transmitted over his comm. “There is one more thing.”

Cody’s attention was back on his footlocker. “What is it?”

“How did I get the scar on my chin?”

Cody glanced over. “You really want to do this?”

“It’s a simple question, sir. How did I get the scar?”

“Oh, Rex,” Cody sighed, exasperated, “you really should have stayed in bed.”

He lunged forward, and expecting it, Rex twisted to the side, managing to keep his feet under him as Cody tried to use his momentum to force Rex to give ground. They grappled, but despite knowing Cody’s moves, Rex couldn’t get a hold on him; Cody twisted and fought in ways Rex was unable to anticipate.

He ducked under Cody’s right hook, grabbing him around the middle and trying to bear him to the ground. Only his bare foot caught on one of the fucking jammers, and Rex hissed as it tore open his sole, knocking him off balance. Cody slipped his hold and darted behind him, using his full weight to slam and pin Rex face first into the wall.

“Under any other circumstances,” Cody said, the shape of the words all wrong in his mouth, “I would enjoy this.”

“Go fuck yourself, Kenobi,” Rex snarled.

He felt Kenobi smile. “When did you figure it out?”

“You were careless.” Kenobi had a tight hold on his arms, but Rex very carefully tested how much give he had. “You mixed up Wooley and Waxer.”

“In my defense,” Kenobi said, “their names are very similar.”

“And Cody hasn’t spent enough time on Tattooine to pick up that much of the Tusken dialect.”

“And I really should remember that you know Anakin.”

“But what really gave it away,” Rex continued, “was that you said you needed sleep. Cody would rather work himself to death than admit to that. I just about have to tie him to his bunk to make sure he catches a couple of hours.”

Kenobi shifted so that his mouth was right next to Rex’s ear. “I truly wish we the time for you to go into more detail on that—” Rex rolled his eyes “—but I’m afraid time is not something I have an abund—”

Rex slammed his head backwards, teeth gritted against the pain as his skull made contact with Kenobi’s face, and judging by his pained grunt Rex did some damage. Rex wrenched his arm free and, while Obi-Wan was staggered, shoved off the wall, causing them both to stumble backward.

Kenobi regained his balance first, but this what he didn’t know: Cody had a trick knee from delivering one too many kicks to a droid’s head that had a tendency to collapse if struck just right. Rex delivered the blow, and Kenobi folded with a sharp cry of pain. Rex pinned him with a knee to his back and fished out a pair of binders that Cody, the paranoid bastard that he was, kept under his bunk.

“I must give credit where it’s due,” Kenobi said as Rex secured his hands behind his back and hauled him upright, “that was very well done.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly. Kenobi’s nose was bleeding, which meant it was probably broken. “Where’s Cody?”

“In my body. He’s perfectly fine,” Kenobi added when Rex glared. “I wasn’t lying when I said I gave him the slip in an asteroid field. He should be arriving soon.”

“In your ship?”

Kenobi nodded, and Rex sent another message so that the more excitable bridge crew wouldn’t open fire.

“While I am in no condition to bargain,” Kenobi said, “I do ask for your indulgence on a small matter.”

“What is it?” Rex asked despite knowing better.

Kenobi kissed him. It wasn’t hard or fast like he expected—like he’d imagined—but soft and tentative, as if Kenobi didn’t want to push. Despite it being Cody’s body, it wasn’t anything like kissing Cody, and Rex leaned into it, swallowing Kenobi’s contented sigh.

Boil cleared his throat, and Rex jerked backwards to see him and four other brothers clustered at the open door.

“Do I want to know, sir?” Boil asked.

“Don’t blame the good major,” Kenobi said. “This is my fault. I am not a man who refrains from taking advantage of an excellent opportunity.”

Rex climbed to his feet, grimacing as he put weight on his injured foot. “It’s Kenobi,” Rex said. “Don’t ask me how. I haven’t gotten to that yet, but it’s definitely him.”

“Always a pleasure to see you again, Lieutenant,” Kenobi said, inclining his head.

Boil sighed as he signaled for the other troopers to pull Kenobi to his feet. “That would explain why Kenobi’s ship is transmitting our codes.”

“That would be Cody. Have him dock in bay two. I’ll meet him there.” While Boil gave the order, Rex pointed to a shiny and said, “Give me your blaster. And your boots.”

“Sir?” the shiny said.

Boil looked up from his comm to bark, “You heard the major. Boots and blaster now, trooper!”

The shiny nearly fell over trying to get his boots off before another brother steadied him.

“And what about me?” Kenobi asked, still bleeding.

Cody would be annoyed if they didn’t set his nose correctly, and so Rex said, “Take him to the brig, but have Sawbones meet you there.”

“You should let Kix look at that,” Boil said, eyeing the bloody footprints Rex was leaving behind, “before it turns gangrenous and falls off.”

“It’s not going to fall off immediately.” He winced as he struggled into the boot. “And find out what he was looking for.”

“Ah, Major,” Kenobi called back as he was led away, “you only have to ask.”

Into the silence that followed, Rex said, “You don’t want to know.”

“No, sir,” Boil agreed. “Me and the boys didn’t see a thing.”

“Good man,” Rex said, and limped his way towards the bay two.

* * *

Bay two was small and mainly used for accepting supply shipments. There was barely enough for Kenobi’s ship, and Rex stationed a couple of brothers outside just in case he was wrong about the whole fucking mess.

Cody, or at least Cody in Kenobi’s body, was waiting at the end of the ramp that led into the skimmer. It was Kenobi’s personal ship and the one he used when personally taunting Cody.

“What the hell happened to you?” Cody said.

Rex ignored that and, one hand on the blaster, said, “How did I get the scar on my chin?”

Cody’s eyebrows rose. It was a quintessential Cody expression even on a different face. “You want the truth or the filthy lie you tell everyone?”

“Both,” Rex said.

“You tell everyone that you got it scaling the outside of the main facility to break into Taun We’s office to find more information on the biochips.”

“And how did I really get it?”

Cody smirked. “One of _The Resilient’s_ doors malfunctioned and you walked right into it. You don’t know how disappointed I am there’s no recording.”

“Trust me, I know,” Rex said, and closed the remaining distance to grab Cody by the back of the neck and touch their foreheads together. Kenobi had an inch of extra height, and Rex had to tip his head back. “What the hell happened?”

Cody sighed as they drew back. “Remember that artifact we took from him a few months back? I think that’s what caused this.”

“That’s probably why Kenobi was ransacking your quarters. He was looking for it.” He frowned. “We turned that over to Master Nu. How did it activate when it’s back on Coruscant?”

“You think I fucking know?” Cody snapped, scratching at the beard. “I just want to reverse it.”

Master Nu had sent them a preliminary report about her findings. She managed to translate some of the etchings, something about it requiring…Rex grinned. “You didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Cody said, but unlike them, Kenobi’s pale skin hid absolutely nothing.

“Did his courtship finally worked?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The flush worked its way up Cody’s neck and across his face.

“It requires intimacy to work.” He considered Cody, or at least Cody now. “What was he like?”

Kenobi’s face wasn’t built for looking as extremely disappointed as Cody felt, but Cody still made the effort. “That’s not appropriate.”

“When has that ever stopped us?” Rex moved in close. “We both know you’re going to tell me.”

Cody sighed. “He was oddly sweet. Not shy but—”

“Tentative.”

“Yes,” Cody said, barely getting the word before Rex kissed him.

Like Kenobi, Rex wasn’t a man to let an excellent opportunity slip by.

It was strange, having to lean up instead of just in. The height and the scratch of the beard were new, but this was still Cody, and there was no tentativeness now. There was only assurance, and Rex gave as good as he got, hand on Cody’s hip keeping his close.

And then it shifted. A gentle hand cupped his jaw as the kiss sweetened.

Rex reluctantly drew back. “Kenobi.”

Kenobi smiled. “Hello there.”

“I take it Cody’s back where he belongs?”

Rex’s comm activated, and Cody snarled, “Did you break my nose, you asshole?”

“I believe that’s your answer,” Kenobi said. “And while I’ve enjoyed our time together, I’m afraid I must take my leave.”

Kenobi’s hand was on the blaster, but before he could pull it from the holster Rex grabbed his wrist, holding on tightly.

“You should stay awhile,” he said.

Kenobi’s gaze dropped to his mouth. “A tempting offer coming from you, Major, but I’m not keen on finding out what the inside of a Republic prison looks like.”

Intimacy was required, Rex thought. He couldn’t imagine Master Nu’s face would be when he sent her this addendum.

“I’m not interested in arresting you.”

The flush was back. Kenobi’s pale skin really did him no favors. “Then what are you interested in?”

Over the comm, Cody said, “Keep him here.”

“That,” Rex said.

Kenobi’s eyes widened before he adopted a rather poor facsimile of his usual smirk. “You want to keep me, is that it?”

“The only way we can catch you is if you want to be caught.” Rex slid his hand from Kenobi’s hip to the small of his back, pulling him in close. “And you’re caught.”

“So I am,” Kenobi agreed, mouth softening. “Now what?”

“First, you stop trying to steal blaster back.” He waited until Kenobi sighed and drew his hand back before adding, “And then we see if Sawbones set Cody’s nose.”

“And after that?” Kenobi asked.

“After that that you can help us clean up the mess you made in Cody’s bunk.” He pushed the tips up his fingers under Kenobi’s shirt. “Or at least clean off the bed.”

“Ah,” Kenobi said with a genuine smile. “Well, if that’s the case then you should call me Obi-Wan, Major.”

“Rex,” he corrected.

“Rex.” Obi-Wan brushed a kiss to the corner of Rex’s mouth, oddly shy. “I’m sure Cody is waiting on us.”

Cody was, and Rex set the locks before joining them both.


	37. Rex/Obi-Wan, zoo au/conman falls in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt was for zoo au and conman falls in love. Of all the great and weird prompts I received this one may be my favorite for the sheer unapologetic weirdness of it.

An hour into the gala, Ben received an urgent message regarding the health of a certain pygmy dragon, and he awkwardly made his apologies as he took his leave. He paused long enough to snitch a few pastries from a passing waiter.

The gala was being held towards the front of the sanctuary where all the guests could view the most popular and, coincidently, the best behaved wildlife. Several unicorns were grazing hopefully near the fences, and despite the numerous posted warnings Ben still had to pointedly clear his throat to dissuade some guests from feeding them. The little bastards didn’t need to be more spoiled than they already were.

The pygmy dragon pens weren’t too far into the sanctuary, and Ben was already stripping off his jacket when the postdoctoral fellow said, “I’m sorry to pull you away, doc, but it’s Arfour. She’s doing poorly.”

“You did the right thing,” he said, and pulled on his waders. Dragons were notoriously fastidious, but the shoes and the suit cost far too much for him to risk. “Has she been vomiting?”

“They’re worse than cats when they’re sick, but I believe so. She’s not taking fluids. We might need to put a line in.”

Arfour, even miserably convalescing from her nest, gave him a baleful glare that promised scorched cuffs if he chose to go down that road. “That may not be necessary yet. Let’s see how she does through the night.” He crouched next to her, and she sighed and nudged her head into his hand, begging for horn scratches, which he obliged. “I can take it from here. Go enjoy the party. The catering is quite excellent.”

Like any post grad, she wasn’t one to turn down free food, and so with a bit more nudging she left them alone. Ben sat down and Arfour pitifully crawled into his lap and made herself comfortable.

“There you go, my dear,” he said when she took some water. “An upset stomach, is it? Ate something you shouldn’t have?”

That earned him a warning puff of hot hair across his knee, and in retaliation he pinched the skin under her small vestigial wings. She flexed her talons and turned a golden eye on him.

“Yes, yes, I haven’t forgotten my end of the bargain.” He fished out the bracelet and watch he nicked from some of the more pompous guests. “That was a good show you put on. I nearly believed you were actually ill.”

Arfour conveyed via an eloquent snort that it was incredibly undignified and he was lucky she put up with him. She delicately lifted the bracelet with a single talon and held it up to the light, casting a critical eye over it before doing to the same to the watch. Apparently they would do, for she was cuddling them close and rumbling happily.

Ben sighed, and said, “I’m glad they meet your approval. If you’re quite finished, we should—”

“So it’s true.”

With impressive speed given her size and usual disposition, Arfour tucked the watch and bracelet under her belly and turned a truly pathetic look on Rex, who carried a wine bottle in one hand a covered plate in the other.

“I’m afraid so,” Ben said, pinching Arfour again. They were on a schedule and Rex looked far too concerned. “It’s nothing serious. She got into something she shouldn’t and gave herself a bit of a stomachache. She’ll be fine.”

“Then why are you still here?” Rex asked, using his hip to nudge open the pen door.

Ben ducked his head and did his best to look bashful. “You know how I am at parties. No one wants to hear about dragon genealogy in great detail.”

“I do,” Rex said.

“Not everyone is you,” Ben said, annoyed by how genuinely besotted he sounded. He half-expected Arfour to reprimand him with a claw to the leg, but she was equally as taken with Rex, which was making this job much more difficult than it had any right to be. “I could see their eyes glazing over.”

“Their loss.” Rex settled down on the patch of nest Arfour sculpted specifically for him. “I figured you’d want to stay with her so I brought this in case you were hungry.” He balanced the plate on knee and lifted off the lid, revealing all the little hors d’oeovres he had stolen.

Ben wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself and so he didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t charmed in spite of who he was. He’d been charmed since nearly the first moment he saw Dr. Ranui bottle feeding an orphaned sphinx litter. It was only supposed to be a passing flirtation, a way for him to pass the time, but then without his permission it had turned into this, the two of them sharing a bottle of wine and eating their way through what really was excellent catering.

Arfour shamelessly tried to sneak a bite of a glazed ham, and Obi-Wan took petty joy in telling her, “My dear, you’ve already upset your stomach tonight. Let’s not go making it worse.”

Her glare promised severe retribution in his future, but Rex just smiled and smoothed two fingers along her small wings until her eyes drooped in pleasure. “I’ll sneak you something when you’re feeling better.”

“Please do not spoil her,” Ben said, jostling his knee to remind her that they had a job to do and she needed to pull herself together.

Rex’s eyebrows rose. “Are we pretending you weren’t sneaking the sphinx kits catnip the other day?”

“We are.” He ate the last puff pastry piece and washed it down with wine. The bottle was half gone and he still hadn’t figured out how to politely suggest Rex get back to the party. “Perhaps you—”

“You’re not—” Rex said at the same time. They broke off, and Rex cleared his throat. “You go first.”

“It’s nothing. I just thought that perhaps you should—” He was saved by Rex’s mobile going off, and at Rex’s frown, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

Rex snorted. “A couple of drunk guests decided to try to sneak in the sphinx pen to pet them.”

“Oh dear. Were they badly hurt?”

“Apparently one of them was sober enough to answer the riddle correctly.” Rex sighed, regretful. “I have to go deal with it.” He hesitated before saying, nearly shy, “I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” Ben lied. “I look forward to it.”

Arfour waited until Rex had latched the gate behind him before huffing out a small lick of flame. She impatiently shook out her wings and clambered off his lap, taking her treasures with her.

“Oh, now you care about the schedule?” he said, helping to fasten the bracelet and watch around her upper leg as they were both too small to fit around her neck. Ahsoka could adjust them when they met up with her later. “I can’t help but notice you didn’t care about that when Rex was scratching your horns.”

Through a complicated twitch of her wings, Arfour implied he was just jealous because Rex wasn’t scratching his horns.

“I am very tempted to leave you here,” he said even as he picked her up and settled her across his shoulders.

The waders, the wine, and the plate were all placed in the refuse bin next to the pen. The collapsible cage was still where he hidden it amongst Arfour’s supplementary dietary pellets that she had never once eaten despite his best attempts to hide them in bits of cake decorated with edible gold.

He checked his watch. They were behind schedule, but music still drifted from the gala. They had time.

He set off further into the sanctuary, past the manticore enclosure, the griffin exhibit, the kelpie pond, and even the sanctuary’s crowning jewel: the phoenix with her fire plumage and lonesome song.

They were all excellent targets, make no mistake, but hardly worth spending the better part of a year working a long con, and certainly not worth involving Arfour, who never failed to remind him that this pitiful nest had nothing on her home one with its numerous treasures.

“We’re almost done here.” He reached up and scratched under her chin. “And then we can go home.”

She rumbled a reminder that they wouldn’t see Rex again.

“Sacrifices have to be made,” he said grimly. Arfour was very much aware of that.

They were deep into the sanctuary now, but between the late hour and the gala they had yet to bump into anyone. Ben wasn’t worried. He was well known amongst the staff for taking Arfour on daily walks, and with the pretense of her upset stomach, no one would think twice about this nightly constitutional.

And if that failed they had the token to direct suspicion away from them. He touched his pocket to reassure himself it was still there.

Finally they arrived at the enclosure, which stood dark and quiet. The chick would be inside the coop. Ben let himself in with the code that has been depressingly easy to get and tapped on the coop door before opening it.

Slowly, its legs still shaky despite being three months out from its hatching, the little dacha tottered down the ramp, its windows blinking sleepily up at them. Arfour scrambled on his shoulder, and, wincing, Ben lowered her to the ground before she could clamber her way down his body.

She nosed the little dacha, blowing warm air over its eaves and along its door. The dacha leaned into her, and Arfour groomed its roof, smoothing tufts of stray thatching back into place. When Ben unfolded the cage, the bottom lined with a soft blanket and hay, Arfour nudged the dacha inside.

As he secured the door, Rex said, “So this is what you were actually after. Personally I thought it would be the phoenix.”

Arfour growled a profanity, and Ben said, “Oh, Rex, I’m glad you’re here. I was out with Arfour when I noticed the poor thing was limping rather ba—”

“Let’s cut the shit.” Rex was inside the pen now and slowly moving closer. “Dr. Hardeen doesn’t exist. He has a very extensive and credible paper trail. Those reference letters were a nice touch as was the failed literature course in second year of university. Very humanizing.”

Despite his rather significant character flaws, Anakin did excellent work when constructing a new identity. The fact that Rex was able to unravel it suggested that not only was he in the business but that he was very good. Both those things were either worrying or extremely interesting depending on the point of view.

“Literature has never been my subject,” he said.

Over the course of the job, Ben had thought he got quite good at reading at Rex, but it was becoming clear that was only what Rex wanted him to see. This Rex, with his steady gaze and the slow deliberate way he was circling closer, was a mystery.

“This was a long job you’ve been pulling. It took me a good couple of months to figure you out.” Rex said it like a compliment, and Ben was flattered; he did like his work being appreciated. “So who are you really?”

“You can call me Obi-Wan.” He was curious to see Rex’s reaction. It was a small pond they were all swimming in. “Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Rex was close enough that Obi-Wan could see how his eyes widened. So he was in the business. “And I’m assuming you are not in fact Dr. Rex Ranui.”

“I actually do go by Rex.” He glanced at the carrier. “Why the dacha? They’re rare, but not anything special.”

Not technically true, but close enough. They were rare. It took decades for them to mature into an adult house, and each adult only laid a handful of clutches throughout their lives, and of those there may be two viable eggs. The eggs themselves had long incubation periods, and half of those were abandoned as houses typically had little parental instincts. This dacha was the first to be successfully hatched in the last five years.

“They have their uses,” Obi-Wan answered. Rex circled ever closer.

“Selling it?” Rex asked. “I hear they’re considered a delicacy.”

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath, offended.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Rex sounded thoughtful. “You don’t need the money, if what I hear is true. So what is it worth to you?”

Obi-Wan considered and discarded several lies. Rex was in the same business as him, and was considerably good given Obi-Wan hadn’t once suspected him of performing his own grift. As one professional to another, Obi-Wan was very tempted to tell the truth, or at least a version of. He wasn’t without his own character flaws, after all.

“A favor,” he answered.

“Must be a big favor.” Rex was close enough to touch now, if Obi-Wan was so inclined. Arfour shifted uneasily, pressing her body against Obi-Wan’s legs.

“You know what they say,” Obi-Wan said, lifting the cage, “it’s better to be owed a favor than be in another’s debt. Now if you’ll excuse me, we really must be going.”

Obi-Wan made it two steps before Rex caught his wrist. Rex had an odd pattern of calluses for a fellow grifter. “Who do you want in your debt?” Rex asked.

“Why do you care?” He tested the strength of Rex’s grip only for Rex to tighten it.

“Call it professional curiosity.” Rex’s gaze dropped to his mouth. “Why go through all this trouble, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “If you must know, it’s the Seelie Queen.”

Rex actually reared back in surprise, although he kept hold of Obi-Wan’s wrist. “You’re either stupid or crazy to get involved with the Courts.”

“Neither, actually.” He cocked his head to the side. “Are you worried about me?”

“I’d be worried for anyone trying to con the goddamn Seelie Queen.”

“I’m merely doing business with her,” Obi-Wan said. “I deliver this dacha to her and in return she owes me a favor. It’s quite simple.”

“Nothing’s simple with the Courts.”

“You _are_ worried about me,” he said, and took Rex’s frown as confirmation. “That’s sweet.”

Rex refused to take the bait. “Why do you need the favor?”

“Who says I need it?”

“Because you’re very good and there’s no other reason for you to risk doing business with them.” Rex said it like it was a fact, as if he truly believed he knew what Obi-Wan was capable of.

“I’m afraid that’s a private matter,” he said. “But do take care of yourself, Rex.”

And then because he wasn’t going to get another chance and there was no reason not to, he closed that last remaining bit of distance between them and kissed Rex, taking advantage of his surprise to bite his lower lip before drawing back.

Unfortunately Rex wasn’t surprised enough to release his grip he had on Obi-Wan’s wrist, but a thin stream of fire from Arfour had Rex complying quickly.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you,” Obi-Wan said, and then Arfour keeping pace with him, they were out the gate and fading down the dark paths, leaving Rex to stare after them.

It was the work of minutes for Arfour to chew through the eastern fencing, and then they were at the car Obi-Wan had stowed there two days previously. The cage with the dacha went into the back and Arfour took her customary place in the passenger seat, the seat warmer turned on high, and they left the wildlife sanctuary behind them.

Obi-Wan drove through the night, only stopping an hour after dawn for a truly terrible cup of coffee and to refuel. Arfour took the opportunity to stretch her legs and wings and to inform Obi-Wan that it’d been monumentally foolish even for him to reveal so much to Rex.

“It was a matter of professional pride,” he told her, waiting for the tank to fill.

She snorted. He just wanted to show off. Had he forgotten what happened with Satine? He had a distressing habit of going stupid around potential compatible sexual partners.

“Please don’t phrase it like that,” Obi-Wan said, grimacing. “And Rex is neither.”

The kiss suggested otherwise.

“You may have a point there.” He had spent the last several hours replaying it in his head. “But don’t pretend you didn’t like him. You were shameless in getting his attention.”

She shrugged her wings. Rex gave good scratches and she would not apologize for it.

Obi-Wan rolled his eye and replaced the gas pump. He held the door open for Arfour to scramble back inside. They could make another couple hours before they would need to stop again to feed the dacha and he wanted to put more distance between them and the sanctuary.

The attendant was looking in his direction, probably because he and Arfour were the only things of interest at this hour, but Obi-Wan still reached into his pocket for the token; they last thing they needed at this point was to draw attention.

The token was gone. In its place was a business card on which was printed a single name that was legendary in the business. On the back was a phone number, and below that in Rex’s messy scrawl _I look forward to working with you again._

“He nicked it,” Obi-Wan said, torn between outrage and professional admiration for such an elegant lift. “He’s a fucking Fett and he _nicked_ it.”

Arfour laughed so hard she nearly scorched the upholstery. Turned out he wasn’t the only showing off.

They were on a tight deadline, and so he pocketed the card and started the car. Five kilometers later Arfour rumbled a question.

“Of course I’m going to call,” Obi-Wan answered. “I want my token back.”

She sighed and flicked her wings at him. This was going to be worse than Satine.

“Don’t be dramatic. Rex hardly seems like the type to shoot me.”

Arfour pointedly turned her back on him.

“If it goes bad, I’ll buy you the that sapphire ring you’ve had your eye on and you can say you told me so.”

She was going to do that anyway and he already owed her at least three rings for having to put up with all this.

“You’re very spoiled,” he said fondly, and touched the card in his pocket. He smiled as the morning sun flooded the car.


End file.
